r"  f )  *   *'«      JL 


GAULT 


KATE  LANGLEY  BOSHE 


• 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


/b 


THE       RUSTLE      OF      SKIRTS       MADE      HER       LOOK       UP 


MISS  GIBBIE  GAULT 

A    STORY 


BY 
KATE    LANGLEY   BOSHER 

AUTHOR  OF 

"MARY  GARY" 


FRONTISPIECE  BY 

HARRIET    ROOSEVELT    RICHARDS 


HARPER  &  BROTHERS  PUBLISHERS 
NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON   .-.   M  C  M  X  I 


COPYRIGHT.    1911.   BY    HARPER   ft    BROTHERS 


PRINTED   IN   THE    UNITED   STATES  OF   AMERICA 
PUBLISHED    MAY.    1911 


PS 

3503 


TO 
MY    HUSBAND 


1523782 


CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PAGE 

I.  THE  GUILD  OF  GOSSIPS i 

II.  THE  VIEWS  OF  Miss  GIBBIE 15 

III.  APPLE-BLOSSOM  LAND 21 

IV.  THE  COUNCIL  CHAMBER 35 

V.  IN  WHICH  MARY  GARY  SPEAKS    ....  49 

VI.  MIDNIGHT 67 

VII.  PEGGY 83 

VIII.  PEGGY'S  PARTY 91 

IX.  JOHN  MAXWELL  AND  MARY  GARY    .     .    .  106 

X.  THE  FORGOTTEN  ENGAGEMENT      .    .    .    .  116 

XI.  A  DAY  OF  ENTERTAINMENT 128 

XII.  THE  BARGAIN 142 

XIII.  A  GRATEFUL  CONVALESCENT 155 

XIV.  A  MORNING  TALK 168 

XV.  BUZZIE 179 

XVI.  MEN  AND  HUSBANDS 191 

XVII.  IN  WHICH  MARY  GARY  is  PUZZLED       .    .  205 

XVIII.  PICTURES  IN  THE  FIRE 216 

XIX.  THE  TESTIMONY  PARTY 228 

XX.  A  SUDDEN  CHANGE 244 


CONTENTS 


CHAP. 


XXI.  THE  RELEASE     ......         ...  255 

XXII.  THE  NEWS     ....,, 267 

XXIII.  THE  GUILD  AGAIN 279 

XXIV.  THE  PIECE  OF  PAPER 291 

XXV.  THE  CONCLUSION  OF  A  MATTER        .     .    .  301 

XXVI.  THE  SURRENDER 307 

XXVII.  A  TIE  THAT  BINDS 317 


MISS   GIBBIE    GAULT 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 


THE   GUILD   OF   GOSSIPS 


HE  Needlework  Guild,  which  met  every 
Thursday  at  eleven  o'clock,  on  this  par 
ticular  Thursday  was  meeting  with  Mrs. 
Tate.  It  was  the  last  meeting  before 
adjournment  for  the  summer,  and  though 
Mrs.  Pryor,  the  president,  had  personally 
requested  a  large  attendance,  the  attendance  was 
small.  In  consequence,  Mrs.  Pryor  was  displeased. 
"Mercy,  but  it's  warm  in  here,"  said  Mrs.  Tate, 
going  to  a  window  and  opening  wide  its  shutters. 
"I  had  no  idea  it  would  be  as  hot  as  this  to-day, 
though  you  can  nearly  always  look  for  heat  in  May." 
She  slapped  her  hands  together  in  an  attempt  to  kill 
a  fly  that  was  following  her,  then  stood  a  moment  at 
the  window  looking  up  and  down  the  street. 

"Wish   to  goodness   I   could   have  one  of  those 
electric  fans  like  Miss  Gibbie  Gault's  got,"  she  went 

i 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

on,  coming  back  to  her  seat  and  wiping  her  face  with 
Mrs.  Webb's  handkerchief,  which  happened  to  be 
closest  to  her;  "but  wishing  and  getting  are  not  on 
speaking  terms  in  our  house.  Have  any  of  you  seen 
Miss  Gibbie's  new  hat  ?" 

"I  have."  Mrs.  Moon  took  up  the  large  braid- 
bound  palm-leaf  fan  lying  on  the  chair  next  to  her 
ancl  began  to  use  it  in  leisurely,  rhythmic  strokes. 
"She  has  five  others  exactly  like  it.  She  says  she 
would  have  ordered  ten,  but  when  a  person  has 
passed  the  sixty-fifth  birthday  the  chances  are  against 
ten  being  used,  and  six  years  ahead  are  sufficient  provi 
sion  for  hats.  Five  of  them  are  put  away  in  camphor." 

"Imagine  ordering  hats  for  years  ahead  just  to  save 
trouble!  I'm  thankful  to  have  one  for  immediate 
use."  Mrs.  Corbin  put  down  the  work  on  which 
she  had  not  been  sewing  and  folded  her  arms. 
"Miss  Gibbie  may  be  queer,  but  there's  a  lot  of  sense 
in  deciding  on  a  certain  style  and  sticking  to  it. 
Fashions  come  and  fashions  go,  but  never  is  she 
bothered.  Just  think  of  the  peace  of  mind  sacrificed 
to  clothes!" 

"Who  but  Miss  Gibbie  would  wear  the  same  kind 
year  after  year,  year  after  year  ?"  said  Mrs.  Pryor, 
who  alone  was  industriously  sewing.  "But  that's 
Gibbie  Gault.  From  the  time  she  was  born  she  has 
snapped  her  fingers  at  other  people,  and,  if  it's  pos 
sible  to  do  a  thing  differently  from  the  way  others  do 
it,  she  will  do  it  that  way  or — 

2 


THE    GUILD    OF   GOSSIPS 

"  Make  them  do  it.  I  never  will  forget  the  day  she 
marched  Beth's  boys  through  the  streets  and  locked 
them  up  in  her  house."  Mrs.  Tate  pointed  her 
needle,  which  had  been  unthreaded  all  the  morning, 
at  Mrs.  Moon.  "Funniest  thing  I  ever  saw.  Re 
member  it,  Beth  ?" 

"Remember?  I  should  think  I  did."  Mrs. 
Moon  smiled  quietly.  "I  have  long  seen  the  funny 
side,  but  it  took  me  long  to  see  it.  Nobody  but 
Miss  Gibbie  would  have  done  it." 

"Please  tell  me  about  it,  Mrs.  Moon,"  said  Mrs. 
Burnham,  who  was  still  something  of  a  stranger  in 
Yorkburg.  "Every  now  and  then  I  hear  references 
to  Miss  Gibbie  Gault's  graveyard,  and  to  the  way 
she  once  got  ahead  of  your  boys,  and  I've  often 
wanted  to  ask  about  it.  Is  there  really  a  graveyard 
at  Tree  Hill,  and  is  the  gate  bricked  up  so  that  no 
one  can  get  in  ?" 

"It  certainly  is."  Mrs.  Moon  laughed.  There 
isn't  very  much  to  tell.  Everybody  knows  about  the 
old  Bloodgood  graveyard  at  Tree  Hill  in  which  Miss 
Gibbie's  parents  and  grandparents  and  great-grand 
parents  are  buried.  Her  mother  was  a  Bloodgood; 
and  everybody  knows,  also,  that  since  the  Yankee 
soldier,  who  died  during  the  war  at  Judge  Gault's 
house,  was  buried  there  the  gate  has  been  bricked 
up  and  nobody  has  ever  been  inside  but  Miss  Gibbie 
and  Jackson  who  cuts  the  grass." 

"But  how  does  she  get  in?"  Mrs.  Burnham's 

3 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

voice  was  puzzled  inquiry.  "If  there's  no  gate, 
how—" 

"She  climbs  up  a  ladder  on  the  outside  of  the 
wall,  which  is  eight  feet  high  and  two  feet  thick, 
and  down  another  which  is  inside,"  interrupted  Mrs. 
Tate,  to  whom  the  question  had  not  been  asked.  "I 
wish  to  goodness  I  had  been  there  the  day  she 
nabbed  your  boys,  Beth.  I  don't  wonder  they  were 
scared." 

"They  were  certainly  scared."  Mrs.  Moon  wiped 
her  lips  and  smiled  reminiscently.  "My  boys  fol 
lowed  her  one  day,  Mrs.  Burnham,  and  the  result  was 
one  of  the  most  ridiculous  sights  ever  seen  in  York- 
burg. 

"After  finishing  what  she  had  to  do  that  day,  Miss 
Gibbie  climbed  up  the  ladder  she  keeps  inside  and 
started  to  get  on  the  one  outside,  and  there  was  none 
to  get  on.  The  boys  had  taken  her  ladder  and  hidden 
it,  and  they  themselves  were  hiding  behind  an  oak- 
tree  some  little  distance  off. 

"At  first  they  doubled  up  with  laughter  when  they 
saw  Miss  Gibbie  straddling  the  top  of  the  wall,  un 
able  to  get  down  either  way;  but  suddenly,  Richard 
said,  she  balanced  herself  on  the  top  of  the  wall  and 
sat  there  with  her  feet  hanging  over  as  if  going  to 
spend  the  day,  and  then  in  a  flash  she  was  down  on 
the  ground. 

"Haifa  minute  later  she  had  each  of  them  by  the 
arm.  Dick  said  his  feet  were  dead  feet,  he  couldn't 

4 


THE   GUILD   OF   GOSSIPS 

budge.  Neither  could  Frederick.  The  sudden  jump 
had  paralyzed  them. 

"'Moon  boys!'  she  said — 'Moon  boys!  Fine  fun, 
wasn't  it  ?  Well,  let's  go  home  and  have  some  more 
fun,'  and  down  the  hill  she  marched  them  and  on 
into  town.  All  the  length  of  King  Street  they  went, 
then  into  St.  Mary's  Road,  then  Fitzhugh  Street,  and 
back  into  King,  and  finally  into  her  home  in  Pelham 
Place. 

"All  the  time  nothing  had  been  said.  Everybody 
who  had  seen  them  had  stopped  and  stared,  and  some 
of  the  boys  had  started  to  follow,  but  Miss  Gibbie 
had  nodded  her  head  backward,  and  a  nod  was 
enough.  When  they  got  in  the  house  she  took  them 
up-stairs  to  a  big  bedroom  and  told  them  to  sit  down 
and  cool  off;  then  she  locked  the  door  and  left  them. 

"  Five  hours  later  the  door  was  opened  and  dinner 
was  brought  in.  It  was  a  good  dinner,  and  the  boys 
ate  it,  every  bit  of  it,  and,  feeling  better,  were  be 
ginning  to  look  around  for  means  of  escape,  when  in 
walked  Miss  Gibbie  with  two  white  things  in  her 
hand. 

'"  Didn't  we  have  lots  of  fun  this  morning  ?'  she 
said.  'Awful  lot  of  fun  to  see  a  lady  play  Humpty- 
Dumpty.  Pity  nobody  else  could  see.  When  people 
look  funny  everybody  ought  to  see.'  And  Frederick 
said,  as  she  didn't  seem  mad  a  bit,  he  thought  she  was 
going  to  tell  them  to  run  on  home,  when  she  turned 
to  the  dining-room  servant,  who  had  come  in  with 

5 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

her,  and  flung  out  two  big  old-fashioned  nightgowns 
of  her  own.  'Here,  Hampton,  help  these  boys  take 
off  their  hot  clothes  and  put  on  something  cool,' 
she  said,  and  she  made  Hampton  undress  them 
and  put  on  her  gowns,  and  then  sent  them  flying 
home." 

Miss   Matoaca   Brockenborough  threw  back  her 

O 

head  and  laughed  heartily.  "  I  can  see  them  now,  as 
they  came  running  down  the  street.  They  were  trying 
to  hold  their  white  robes  up  in  front,  but  behind  they 
were  trailing  in  the  dust,  and  following  them  were 
boys  and  dogs  and  goats  and  girls,  and  I  stood  still, 
like  all  the  other  grown  people,  to  see  what  was  the 
matter.  I  laughed  till  I  cried.  Frederick  stumbled 
at  every  other  step,  and  Dick  got  his  feet  so  tangled 
that  he  fell  flat  twice.  If  old  Admiral  Bloodgood's 
ghost  had  been  chasing  them,  they  couldn't  have 
run  faster.  Nobody  but  Miss  Gibbie  would  have 
dressed  them  up  that  way." 

"And  nobody  but  Miss  Gibbie  would  have  come 
back  at  me  as  she  did  when  I  told  her  how  uneasy 
I  had  been  by  the  boys'  absence  at  dinner,"  said 
Mrs.  Moon,  who  had  moved  nearer  the  window. 
"It  was  twelve  years  ago,  but  I  have  never  forgot 
ten  what  she  said  or  the  way  she  said  it.  I  can 
see  her  now."  Mrs.  Moon  sat  upright.  "'My  dear 
Madam,'  she  said,  'my  dear  Madam,  you  will  have 
cause  not  only  for  uneasiness,  but  for  shame  and 
sorrow,  if  you  don't  let  your  boys  understand  early 

6 


THE   GUILD    OF   GOSSIPS 

in   life   that    disrespect   to    ladies    means    disaster 
later  on/ ' 

"That's  true;  but  a  lot  of  true  things  aren't  nice 
to  have  on  your  mind.  Don't  you  all  think  it's  aw 
ful  hot  in  here  ?  I  do,"  and  again  Mrs.  Tate  got  up 
and  walked  across  the  room,  this  time  throwing  wide 
the  shutters  and  letting  in  a  glare  of  zunshine.  "If 
I'd  known  it  was  going  to  be  as  warm  as  this  I  would 
have  made  some  lemonade.  There  goes  Mary  Gary!" 
and,  looking  up,  the  ladies  saw  her  smile  and  nod 
and  shake  her  fan  at  some  one  who  was  passing. 

"  Is  she  riding  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Webb,  threading  the 
needle  held  closely  to  her  eyes — "  or  walking  ?" 

"Riding,  and  without  a  piece  of  hat.  That  little 
Peggy  McDougal  is  with  her,  holding  a  green  parasol 
over  both." 

"Mary  Gary  will  ruin  that  child,"  said  Mrs.  Pryor. 
"She  is  constantly  taking  her  about  and  giving  her 
things.  But  Mary,  of  course,  does  as  she  pleases. 
She  always  has  and  always  will." 

"She  pleases  a  lot  of  people  besides  herself,  and  I 
always  did  say  if  you  could  do  that  you  certainly 
ought  to,  for  there  are  so  few  that  can.  But  I  don't 
think  Mary  gives  herself  a  thought.  Did  you  all 
know  the  night-school  teacher  is  going  to  leave  ?" 
and  Mrs.  Tate  put  down  her  fan  long  enough  to 
again  wipe  her  face  with  Mrs.  Webb's  handkerchief. 
"  Mary  is  so  sorry  about  it,  but,  of  course,  she  can't 
help  it." 

2  7 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

"I  believe  she  can  help  it."  Mrs.  Pryor  looked 
around  the  room  as  if  for  confirmation.  "Everybody 
knows  the  reason  he's  going.  I  believe  any  girl  can 
keep  a  man  from  falling  in  love  with  her  if  she  wants 
to.  The  trouble  with  Mary  is  she  doesn't  want  to. 
There  are  my  girls.  You  don't  catch  them  encourag 
ing  attentions  they  don't  want." 

Mrs.  Moon's  foot  pressed  Mrs.  Corbin's.  Miss 
Matoaca  Brockenborough's  elbow  nudged  Mrs. 
Tazewell,  but  no  one  spoke,  and  Mrs.  Pryor  went  on: 
"But  Mary  Gary  has  been  a  law  unto  herself  from 
childhood,  and,  now  she  is  back  in  Yorkburg,  she 
thinks  she  can  keep  it  up,  can  live  her  life  inde 
pendently  of  others,  can  do  her  own  way,  come  and  go 
as  she  pleases,  and  not  be  criticised.  Yorkburg  isn't 
used  to  having  a  young  woman  live  in  a  house  alone, 
except  for  a  white  servant  whom  nobody  knows  any 
thing  about." 

"She's  got  three  servants,"  chimed  Mrs.  Tate. 
"Ephraim  and  Kezia  both  live  with  her." 

"I  wasn't  speaking  of  colored  servants."  Again 
Mrs.  Pryor  waved  her  fan  as  if  for  silence.  "  Besides, 
they  have  their  quarters  outside,  and  both  are  old. 
Out  West  people  may  do  the  things  she  is  doing,  but 
in  Virginia  we  are  different.  We — 

"Oh,  we're  nothing  of  the  kind,  Lizzie,"  and  Mrs. 
Webb  laid  her  sewing  in  her  lap.  "Yorkburg  is  like  all 
the  rest  of  the  world,  as  we  would  knowifwewent  about 
more.  The  trouble  is,  we  think  we  are  the  world." 

8 


"I  don't  see  why  Mary  Cary  shouldn't  live  in  the 
wav  she  wants  to,"  said  Mrs.  Corbin.  "We  live  to 

j 

suit  ourselves,  and  why  shouldn't  she  ?  Heaven 
knows  she's  done  enough  for  Yorkburg  since  she 
came  back.  I  think  she  was  mighty  good  to  come 
and  live  in  a  quiet  little  town  like  this,  when  she  could 
live  almost  anywhere  she  wants.  And  think  of  the 
money  she  spends  here!" 

"That  is  just  it!  Where  does  all  that  money  come 
from  ?  Only  yesterday  she  chartered  the  General 
Maury  to  take  the  orphan  children  on  an  all-day 
picnic  to  Wayne  Beach  on  the  fourteenth  of  this 
month,  and  all  at  her  expense.  It  takes  money  to 
do  things  of  this  kind.  She  says  she  is  not  rich. 
Where  does  the  money  come  from  ?" 

Mrs.  Pryor  tapped  the  table  on  which  her  hands 
had  rested  and  looked  around  with  an  answer-that- 
now-if-you-can  air,  and  several  started  to  answer. 
Mrs.  Burnham's  voice  was  clearest,  however,  and 
as  she  spoke  those  in  front  turned  to  hear  her. 

"We  don't  know  where  it  comes  from,"  she  said, 
courageously,  though  her  face  flushed,  "and  I  am 
not  sure  that  it  is  required  of  us  to  know.  If  Miss 
Cary  prefers  not  to  discuss  her  money  matters,  we 
have  no  right  to  inquire  into  them.  I  have  not  been 
here  very  long,  and  I  don't  know  Yorkburg  as  well 
as  the  people  who  were  born  here,  but  if  more  of  us 
took  interest  in  the  things  she — " 

"In  Yorkburg,  Mrs.  Burnham,  women  are  not  sup- 

9 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

posed  to  take  interest  in  what  are  conceded  to  be  the 
affairs  of  men." 

Mrs.  Pryor  was  withering  in  her  disapproval,  and 
this  time  Mrs.  Corbin  touched  Miss  Matoaca's  foot. 
"I  suppose  you  allude  to  the  streets  of  Yorkburg, 
the  schools,  and  library — and  some  other  things. 
All  these  Western  and  Northern  ideas  which  Mary 
Gary  has  brought  back  are  very  distasteful  to  the 
Virginians  of  historic  ancestry.  We  have  gotten  on 
very  well  for  many  centuries  without  women  med 
dling  in  men's  matters.  I  have  good  authority  for 
what  I  say.  It  is  unscriptural.  St.  Paul  says,  let 
the  women  keep  silent  and  learn  of  their  husbands 
at  home!" 

The  door  behind  Mrs.  Pryor's  back  had  opened 
while  she  was  talking,  and  Miss  Gibbie  Gault,  listen 
ing  with  her  hand  on  the  knob,  tilted  her  chin  and 
screwed  up  her  left  eye  so  tightly  that  it  seemed  but 
a  little  round  hole,  and  at  sight  of  it  some  of  the 
ladies  brightened  visibly,  while  others  fidgeted  in 
nervous  apprehension  of  what  might  come. 

Miss  Gibbie  came  farther  in  the  room,  laid  her 
bag  and  turkey-wing  fan  on  the  table  over  which 
Mrs.  Pryor  was  presiding,  and,  without  a  good- 
morning  to  the  others,  took  her  seat  and  began  the 
pulling-off  of  her  white  cotton  gloves. 

"What's  all  this  nonsense  about  St.  Paul  and 
women,  Lizzie  ?"  she  began,  laying  the  gloves  by  the 
bag  and  taking  up  the  fan.  "I  heard  that  last  re- 

10 


THE   GUILD   OF   GOSSIPS 

mark,  but  Mr.  Pryor  didn't.  Do  you  ever  tell  Mr. 
Pryor  about  St.  Paul's  opinions  ?  I  hope,  some  of 
these  eternal  times,  I  am  going  to  know  St.  Paul. 
His  epistles  don't  speak  of  a  wife,  but  I've  always 
imagined  he  had  one,  and  of  the  kind  who  didn't 
agree  with  you,  Lizzie,  that  women  should  keep 
silent  and  learn  of  their  husbands  at  home — like  you 
learn  of  yours." 

The  white  ribbon  strings  which  tied  Miss  Gibbie's 
broad-brimmed  white  straw  hat  under  her  chin  were 
unfastened  and  thrown  back  over  her  shoulders,  the 
sprig  muslin  skirt  was  spread  out  carefully,  and  the 
turkey-wing  fan  lifted  from  her  lap,  but  for  a  mo 
ment  Mrs.  Pryor  did  not  speak. 

Her  face,  not  given  to  flushing,  had  colored  at  Miss 
Gibbie's  words.  She  pressed  her  lips  firmly  to 
gether  and  looked  around  the  room  as  if  asking  for 
Christian  forbearance  for  so  irreverent  a  speech  as 
had  just  been  heard;  then  she  rose. 

"  I  do  not  care  to  discuss  St.  Paul.  When  a  woman 
sits  in  judgment  upon  one  of  the  disciples  of  the 
Lord—" 

"Don't  get  your  Biblical  history  mixed,  Lizzie. 
St.  Paul  was  not  one  of  the  twelve.  He  was  an 
apostle,  a  writer  of  epistles.  I  admire  him,  but, 
from  his  assertions  concerning  women,  he  must  have 

O  7 

had  some  in  his  family  who  gave  him  trouble.  When 
ever  you  hear  a  man  in  public  insisting  on  keeping 
women  in  their  place,  keeping  them  down  and  un- 

ii 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

der,  not  letting  them  do  this  or  letting  them  do  that, 
you  may  be  certain  he  is  a  managed  man.  But  if 
you  won't  discuss  St.  Paul  with  a  sinner  such  as  I, 
we  will  go  back  to  the  person  you  were  discussing, 
and  I  will  discuss  her  with  Christians  such  as  you. 
Who  was  it  ?  If  it  wasn't  Mary  Gary  I  will  give  ten 
dollars  to  your  heathen  fund."  She  looked  around 
the  room  and  then  at  Mrs.  Webb.  "Was  it  Mary 
Gary,  Virginia  ?" 

Mrs.  Webb,  biting  a  strand  of  cotton  held  at  arm's- 
length  from  the  spool,  nodded,  then  threaded  her 
needle. 

"Yes,  we  were  talking  about  her  work  here  in 
Yorkburg,  and  Mrs.  Pryor  was  telling  us  she  had 
engaged  the  General  Maury  to  take  the  orphan  chil 
dren  to  Wayne  Beach  on  the  fourteenth,  and — " 

"Lizzie  wanted  to  know  where  the  money  was 
coming  from  ?  For  a  Christian  woman,  Lizzie,  your 
curiosity  in  money  matters  is  unrighteous.  If  money 
is  honestly  come  by,  what  business  is  it  of  ours  how 
it  is  spent  ?" 

"Why  doesn't  she  tell  how  it  is  come  by?"  Mrs. 
Pryor's  voice  was  high  and  sharp.  "Mary  Gary  has 
been  back  in  Yorkburg  seven  months — " 

"Seven  months  and  two  weeks,"  corrected  Mrs. 
Tate,  pointing  her  unthreaded  needle  at  Mrs. 
Pryor. 

"She  was  a  penniless  orphan  until  thirteen" — the 
interruption  was  ignored — "and,  so  far  as  we've 

12 


heard,  she  has  never  had  a  fortune  left  her,  and  yet 
after  nine  years'  absence  she  comes  back,  has  a 
beautiful  home,  a  horse,  and  a  runabout,  keeps 
three  servants,  gives  to  everything,  spends  freely,  and 
never  tells  how  she  gets  the  money." 

"And  that's  something  good  people  will  never  for 
give,  will  they,  Lizzie  ?"  t 

Miss  Gibbie  Gault  leaned  forward  and  tapped  the 
table  on  which  Mrs.  Pryor's  hands  were  resting  with 
the  tip  of  the  turkey-wing  fan.  "Though  one  feeds 
the  hungry  and  clothes  the  naked,  brings  cleanliness 
out  of  dirt,  and  gladness  where  was  dulness,  makes 
flowers  grow  where  were  weeds,  it  profiteth  nothing 
— if  one's  business  is  not  told.  Be  honest,  Lizzie. 
Isn't  that  so  ?" 

Mrs.  Moon  glanced  anxiously  at  the  clock  on  the 
mantel  just  under  the  portrait  of  Mrs.  Tate's  great 
grandfather,  and  hurriedly  folded  her  work.  She 
never  came  to  a  meeting  of  the  Needlework  Guild 
if  she  thought  it  likely  Miss  Gibbie  would  be  there. 
But  Miss  Gibbie  was  even  less  regular  than  Miss 
Honoria  Brockenborough,  and  her  attendance  to-day 
was  evidently  for  a  purpose.  By  herself  Miss  Gibbie 
was  an  Occasion,  a  visit  to  her  was  an  experience  that 
gave  color  and  life  to  the  dullest  of  days,  and  she  did 
not  deny  her  enjoyment  of  Miss  Gibbie's  comments 
on  people  and  things.  But  Mrs.  Pryor  and  Miss 
Gibbie  together  made  an  atmosphere  too  electrical 
for  her  peace-loving  nature,  and  she  was  wondering 

13 


MISS    GIBBIE    GAULT 

if  it  were  possible  to  get  away  when  the  door  opened 
and  Mrs.  Tate's  maid  put  her  head  inside. 

"Mis'  Pryor,"  she  said,  and  her  eyes  seemed  all 
whites,  "somebody  at  the  telephone  say  for  you  to 
come  on  home;  that  Mr.  Pryor  done  took  sick  on 
the  street  and  they've  brung  him  in.  Miss  Lizzie 
Bettie  say  to  come  on  quick." 

Every  woman   turned   in  her  seat.     From  some 

j 

came  exclamations  of  frightened  sympathy.  From 
others  a  movement  to  rise,  as  if  the  summons  had 
come  to  them,  but  Mrs.  Pryor  waved  them  back. 

"I  don't  think  it  is  anything  serious,"  she  said, 
bluntly.  "I  can't  even  go  to  a  meeting  in  peace. 
Lizzie  Bettie  is  so  excitable.  Mr.  Pryor  has  been 
having  attacks  of  indigestion  for  months.  He  ate 
sausage  this  morning  for  breakfast.  He  knows  he 
can't  eat  sausage." 


II 


THE    VIEWS    OF   MISS    GIBBIE 


ISS  GIBBIE'S  carriage  was  at  the  gate, 
and  before  the  others  knew  what  to  say 
she  conducted  Mrs.  Pryor  out  of  the  room, 
put  her  in  the  carriage  herself,  and  gave 
the  order  to  Jackson  to  drive  her  home. 
"Tell  Maria  to  telephone  me  here  in  half 
an  hour  how  William  is,"  she  called,  "and  if  you 
need  me  let  me  know,"  then  went  back  into  the  house 
where  all  were  talking  at  once. 

"  Do  you  reckon  he  is  really  ill,  Miss  Gibbie  ?" 
asked  Miss  Matoaca  Brockenborough.  "Don't  you 
think  some  of  us  ought  to  have  gone  with  her  ?" 

"  Do  you  suppose  they  have  gotten  the  doctor  ?" 
inquired  Mrs.  Webb,  and  "he's  so  uncomplaining 
they  might  not  know  he  was  ill,"  said  Mrs.  Moon, 
while  Mrs.  Tazewell,  full  of  sympathy,  thought  they 
ought  to  adjourn  and  go  see  if  there  was  not  some 
thing  they  could  do. 

"Which  of  those  questions  do  you  want  me  to  an 
swer  first  ?"  Miss  Gibbie,  taking  Mrs.  Pryor's  chair, 
waved  the  turkey-wing  fan  back  and  forth,  but  with 

15 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

fingers  not  so  firm  as  they  had  been  before  the  mes 
sage  came,  and  as  she  spoke  the  room  became  quiet 
again. 

"  Do  I  hope  William  Pryor  is  seriously  ill  ?"  she 
began,  her  keen  gray  eyes  dim  with  something  rarely 
seen  in  them.  "  Do  I  hope  William  is  going  to  die  ? 
I  do.  For  thirty-nine  years  he  has  been  the  husband 
of  Lizzie  Pryor,  and  he  has  earned  his  reward.  I 
don't  believe  in  a  golden-harp  heaven.  Not  being 
musical,  William  and  I  wouldn't  know  what  to  do 
with  a  harp.  I  believe  in  a  heaven  where  we  get 
away  from  some  people  and  get  back  to  others,  and 
God  knows  I  hope  William  will  have  a  little  respite 
before  Lizzie  joins  him." 

"I  don't  know  Mr.  Pryor  very  well,"  said  Mrs. 
Brent,  who  had  moved  closer  to  the  table  in  the 
general  uprising  due  to  Mrs.  Pryor's  departure,  "but 
I've  always  felt  sorry  for  him  somehow.  He  had 
such  a  patient,  frightened  face,  and  was  so  polite." 

"That  was  what  ruined  him."  Miss  Gibbie's 
voice  was  steady  again.  "  Many  wives  are  ruined  by 
over  -  politeness.  They  take  advantage  of  it,  and 
make  their  husbands  spend  their  lives  in  an  eternal 
effort  to  please.  That's  what  poor  William  was  for 
ever  attempting  to  do,  and  never  succeeding.  He 
was  Apology  in  the  flesh.  No  matter  what  he  did 
in  the  morning  he  had  to  explain  it  at  night." 

"He  had  to,"  broke  in  Mrs.  Tate,  who  still  held 
her  needle  between  finger  and  thumb.  "If  he  didn't, 

16 


Mrs.  Pryor  breathed  so  through  her  nose  you 
couldn't  stay  in  the  house  with  her.  I  was  there 
once  when  she  wanted  to  go  to  her  sister's  in  Wash 
ington  to  get  new  dresses  for  Maria  and  Anna  Belle 
and  Sue,  and  Mr.  Pryor  had  ventured  to  say  he 
didn't  have  the  money.  You  ought  to  have  seen  her! 
She  hardly  spoke  to  me,  and  Louisa  told  me  after 
ward  they  didn't  see  her  teeth  for  a  week,  she  kept 
her  lips  down  on  them  so  tight.  Poor  Mr.  Pryor, 
I  saw  him  a  day  or  two  afterward  on  his  way  home 
to  dinner,  and  he  looked  like  he  would  rather  go 
to—" 

"Hell.  Speak  out.  I  would,  had  I  been  he." 
Miss  Gibbie  blew  her  nose,  put  the  handkerchief 
back  in  the  bag  hanging  from  her  belt,  took  out  her 
spectacles  and  laid  them  on  the  table.  "Any  kind  of 
woman  can  be  endured  better  than  a  sulking  woman. 
She's  worse  than  a  nagger,  and  home  is  a  place 
of  perdition  with  that  kind  in  it.  But  in  a  sense 
William  deserved  what  he  got.  He  let  her  marry 
him." 

"Oh,  she  didn't  ask  him!"  Mrs.  Burnham  was 
from  the  North,  and  her  voice  was  astonished  inter 
rogation.  "Surely  she  didn't  ask  him!" 

"No.  She  made  him  ask  her.  Made  him  feel  so 
sorry  for  her,  cried  over  herself  and  her  loneliness  so 
persistently  that  William,  being  a  man,  walked  in. 
Six  weeks  later  they  were  married." 

"I  wonder  if  it  was  really  true  the  way  they  say 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

she  used  to  do,"  and  Mrs.  Tate,  whose  needle  was 
now  lost,  was  again  fanning  vigorously. 

"What  way?"  Miss  Gibbie  turned  so  quickly 
toward  her  that  Mrs.  Tate  jumped. 

"Why,  I  heard  when  she  was  first  married  that  if 
she  couldn't  have  just  what  she  wanted,  or  if  Mr. 
Pryor  did  anything  she  didn't  like,  she  would  lie 
flat  down  on  her  back  and  kick  her  heels  on  the  floor 
so  loud  you  could  hear  it  all  over  the  house.  I  don't 
believe  it  was  true." 

"You  don't  ?  Well,  it  was,  with  this  difference. 
When  she  wanted  a  thing  for  herself,  she  lay  on  her 
back  and  kicked.  When  she  wanted  it  for  the  chil 
dren,  she  lay  on  her  stomach  and  cried.  Either  way 
she  got  what  she  wanted." 

The  turkey-wing  fan  waved  back  and  forth,  then 
Miss  Gibbie  got  up.  "This  is  dirty  work  we  are 
doing.  I  prefer  to  make  my  remarks  to  people's 
faces  so  they  can  remark  back.  And  this  isn't  what 
I  came  to  this  meeting  for.  I  know  the  talk  that  has 
been  going  around  lately  about  Mary  Gary.  Lizzie 
Pryor  has  led  it,  and  I  came  here  this  morning  to  tell 
her  so.  The  people  in  Yorkburg  are  like  all  other 
people.  They  pat  the  fat  shoulder,  and  shake  the  full 
hand,  and  eat  of  the  bounty,  and  then,  when  some 
jealous  -  minded,  squint  -  eyed  Christian,  so  -  called, 
starts  questions  and  speculations,  everybody  repeats 
them  and  some  try  to  answer." 

"But  why  are  you  talking  to  us  like  this,  Miss 

18 


THE   VIEWS   OF   MISS   GIBBIE 

Gibbie  ?  We  are  Mary's  friends  and  oughtn't  to  be 
taken  to  task  for  what  we  haven't  done  and  don't 
approve  of,"  said  Mrs.  Corbin.  "We— 

"Then  if  you  are  Mary's  friends  you  will  tell  other 
people  what  I  am  telling  you.  You  will  cut  short  all 
this  twaddle  about  her  great  wealth  and  Western 
ways  and  numberless  beaux.  It's  the  last  that  sticks 
so  in  Puss  Jenkins's  throat.  Puss  never  had  a  beau 
herself,  and  she  can't  get  reconciled  to  Mary's  many." 

"Oh,  she  did  have  one."  Mrs.  Moon  spoke  for 
the  first  time  since  Mrs.  Pryor  left.  "Don't  you  re 
member  Mr.  Thoroughgood  ?" 

"He  never  courted  her.  He  told  me  so  himself. 
He  thought  over  it  and  prayed  over  it,  and  at  last 
decided  he'd  do  it,  but  he  never  did.  He  bought  her 
a  box  of  candy  for  which  he  paid  sixty  cents — told  me 
that,  too — and  went  to  the  house  prepared  to  speak 
the  word.  I  remember  the  night  very  well.  He  tip 
toed  up  the  front  steps  and  stood  on  the  porch  where 
he  could  hear  voices  in  the  parlor.  Puss  and  her 
mother  were  talking,  and  'Mercy  on  me,'  he  said,  'I 
never  had  such  a  narrow  escape  in  all  my  life.  She 
was  scolding  her  mother,  quarrelling  with  her,  lectur 
ing  her  for  something.  I  tell  you  I  tiptoed  down  in 
a  hurry.'  " 

Miss  Gibbie  made  the  mincing  steps  of  Mr.  Thor 
oughgood  and  so  mimicked  his  thin,  piping  voice 
that  all  laughed,  then  she  nodded  at  Mrs.  Moon — "I 
got  the  candy. 

19 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

"But  to  go  back  to  Mary.  She  has  heard  some 
of  the  things  said  about  her,  and  so  have  I.  Mrs. 
Deford  told  her  Yorkburg  did  not  need  to  be  washed 
and  ironed,  and  Lizzie  Bettie  Pryor  wrote  her  a  note 
informing  her  Southern  people  had  no  sympathy  with 
Northern  ideas,  and  if  she  wished  to  keep  her  old 
friends  in  Yorkburg  she  should  be  more  careful  in 
making  new  acquaintances.  Now  this  is  what  I  want 
understood.  She  is  my  friend.  If  any  one  wishes  to 
ask  questions  about  her,  come  to  me.  For  state 
ments  made  against  her  I  will  go  to  them.  She  has 
no  mother.  I^have  no  child.  As  long  as  I  am  here 
and  she  is  here,  we  are  to  be  reckoned  with  together. 
This  is  what  I  came  here  to  say.  You  can  repeat  it. 
I  will  see  that  Lizzie  Pryor  and  her  daughters  hear  it, 
and  Mrs.  Deford  and  Puss  Jenkins  and  Mr.  Benny 
Brickhouse — " 

The  door  opened  noisily  and  again  the  maid 
servant's  head  was  thrust  in.  "Mis'  Tate,"  she  said, 
excitedly,  "somebody  done  phone  from  Mis'  Pryor's 
and  say  Mr.  Pryor  done  gone  and  died.  She  say 
please  somebody  come  on  down  there  quick,  that 
Mis'  Pryor  is  just  carryin'  on  awful." 

The  ladies  sprang  to  their  feet  with  shocked  and 
frightened  faces,  but  it  was  Miss  Gibbie  who  spoke. 

"  Poor  William !"  she  said.  "  Poor  William !  Lizzie 
knew  he  could  never  eat  sausage,  and  she  had  it  this 
morning  for  breakfast!" 


Ill 


APPLE-BLOSSOM    LAND 

EVERAL  days  had  passed  since  gentle 
William  Pryor  had  at  last  found  rest. 
Yorkburg  recovering  from  its  shock,  took 
up  once  more  the  placid  movement  of  its 
life. 

Mary  Gary  opened  her  shutters  and 
with  hands  on  the  window-sill  leaned  out  and  took 
a  deep  breath,  then  she  laughed  and  nodded  her 
head.  "  Good  -  morning  sun,"  she  said,  "good- 
morning  birds,  good -morning  everything!"  Her 
eyes  swept  the  scene  before  her,  absorbed  greedily 
its  every  detail,  then  rested  on  the  orchard  to  the 
right. 

"Oh,  you  beautiful  apple  blossoms!  You  beauti 
ful,  beautiful  apple  blossoms!"  She  threw  them  a 
kiss.  "And  to  think  you  are  mine — mine!" 

In  her  voice  was  a  quivering  little  catch,  and  pres 
ently  she  dropped  on  her  knees  by  the  open  window 
and  rested  her  arms  on  the  sill.  Again  her  eyes 
swept  sky  and  field,  now  glancing  at  the  lawn  of 
velvet  green,  now  at  the  upturned  earth  on  the  left, 

21 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

the  orchard  on  the  right,  the  thread  of  water  in  the 
distance  winding  lazily  in  and  out  at  the  foot  of  low 
hills,  and  now  at  the  sun,  well  up  from  the  soft  dawn 
ing  of  another  day,  and  suddenly  she  stretched  out 
her  arms. 

"God,"  she  said,  "God,  I  am  so  glad— so  glad!" 

For  some  minutes  she  knelt,  her  chin  in  the  palms 
of  her  hands,  her  gaze  wandering  down  the  road  to 
the  little  town  less  than  a  mile  away,  and  presently 
she  laughed  again  as  if  at  some  dear  memory.  It 
was  so  good  to  be  among  the  old  loved  things,  the 
straggling  streets  and  shabby  houses,  the  buttercups 
and  dandelions,  and  the  friends  of  other  days.  It 
was  good,  and  out  loud  she  said  again:  "I  am  so 
glad." 

"Your  bath,  mein  Fraulein." 

She  got  up;  the  soft  gown  falling  from  bare  shoul 
ders  stirred  in  the  light  breeze.  She  pulled  the  ribbons 
from  the  long  braids  of  hair,  and  coiled  them  round 
her  head,  but  she  did  not  leave  the  window. 

"All  right,  I'll  be  there  in  a  minute."  Then: 
"Hedwig?" 

"Yes,  mein  Fra'ulein." 

"Do  you  think  I  could  have  the  day  to  myself? 
I  have  something  important  to  do,  and  I  can't  do  it 
if  constantly  interrupted.  If  any  one  comes,  could 
you  keep  me  from  knowing  it  ?" 

"I  think  so,  mein  Fraulein." 

The  shadow  of  a  smile  hovered  a  moment  on 

22 


APPLE. BLOSSOM   LAND 

Hedwig's  lips.     "Does  that  mean  all  and  everybody, 
or—" 

"Everybody!  Of  course  not  Miss  Gibbie,  but 
everybody  else.  I  shall  not  be  at  home,  you  see.  I 
will  be  down  in  the  orchard,  and  if  Miss  Gibbie  comes 
bring  her  there,  but  never,  never  let  any  one  else  come 
there,  Hedwig." 

"I  understand,  mein  Fraulein." 

The  door  was  closed  quietly,  and  the  girl  now 
standing  in  front  of  her  mirror  looked,  into  it  first 
with  unseeing  eyes,  then  suddenly  with  critical  ones. 

"You  must  look  your  best  to-night,  Mary  Gary. 
You  don't  want  to  go  to  that  meeting.  You  don't 
like  to  do  a  lot  of  things  you've  got  to  do  if  you're  to 
be  a  brave  lady,  but  Martha  knows  nothing  is  accom 
plished  by  wanting  only,  and  Martha  is  going  to  make 
you  talk  to  those  men  to-night."  She  leaned  closer 
to  the  mirror.  "  I  wonder  how  you  happened  to  have 
light  eyes  when  you  like  dark  ones  so  much  better, 
and  brown  hair  when  black  is  so  much  prettier  ? 
You  should  be  thankful  you  don't  have  to  use 
curlers,  and  that  you  have  plenty  of  color,  but  every 
now  and  then  I  wish  you  were  a  raging  beauty,  so 
men  would  do  what  you  want." 

Her  brow  ridged  in  fine  upright  folds  as  if  thinking, 
then  she  turned,  nodding  her  head  in  decision.  "I 
will  wear  that  white  embroidered  mull  to-night.  It 
is  so  soft  and  sweet  and  silly,  and  men  like  things 
like  that." 

3  23 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

Some  hours  later,  household  duties  having  been  at 
tended  to,  fresh  flowers  cut  and  the  stable  visited,  the 
little  vine-draped  shelter  made  of  saplings,  stripped 
of  branch  but  not  of  bark,  and  canvas-covered  on  the 
top,  was  the  point  of  destination;  but  first  she  stood 
on  the  front  porch  and  looked  up  and  down  the  sandy 
road  which  could  be  well  seen  from  the  hilltop.  No 
sign  of  life  upon  it,  she  turned  and  went  through  the 
hall  to  the  back  porch  and  down  the  steps  to  the 
orchard,  in  one  hand  writing-materials,  in  the  other, 
pieces  of  stale  bread  for  the  birds;  and  as  she  walked 
she  hummed  a  gay  little  tune  to  whose  rhythm  she 
unconsciously  kept  step. 

Many  of  the  trees  were  old  and  bent  and  twisted  in 
fantastic  shapes — some  were  small  and  partly  dead, 
but  most  were  fit  for  some  festival  of  the  gods;  and 
as  she  went  in  and  out  among  them,  her  feet  making 
but  slight  impression  on  the  moist  springy  soil,  grass- 
grown  and  sprinkled  with  petals,  pink  and  white,  she 
stopped  now  and  then  and  touched  first  one  and  then 
the  other,  for  a  swift  moment  laid  her  cheek  on  the 
rough  bark  as  if  to  send  a  message  to  its  heart. 

From  the  shelter  she  drew  out  a  rug,  spread  it  close 
to  her  best-loved  tree,  then  sitting  upon  it  leaned 
against  the  trunk,  feet  crossed  and  hands  clasped 
loosely  behind  her  head.  The  chirp  of  sparrows  and 
twitter  of  small  birds,  the  clear  song  of  robin  and  the 
cat-bird's  call  fell  after  a  while  unheeding  on  her  ears, 
and  the  drowsy  hum  of  insects  was  lost  in  the  dream- 

24 


APPLE-BLOSSOM   LAND 

mg  that  possessed  her.  From  the  garden  of  old- 
fashioned  flowers  some  distance  off  the  soft  breeze 
flung  fragrance  faint  and  undefined,  and  for  a  while 
she  was  a  child  again — the  child  who  used  to  run 
away  in  the  springtime  and  hide  in  the  orchard,  that 
she  might  say  her  prayers  before  a  shrine  of  unknown 
name. 

Presently  she  sat  upright  and  opened  her  portfolio. 
"And  now  to  think  it  is  mine,  Aunt  Katherine, 
mine!"  she  began.  "At  last  everything  is  ready, 
everything  is  finished,  and  I  am  in  my  own  home.  I 
am  still  full  of  wonder  and  unbelief,  still  not  under 
standing  how  Tree  Hill  is  my  property.  The  quaint 
old  house  is  not  degraded  by  its  changes,  and  already 
I  love  its  every  room,  its  every  outlook;  and  if  you  and 
Uncle  Parke  and  the  children  do  not  soon  come  I 
shall  be  of  all  creatures  the  most  disappointed  and 
indignant.  I  want  you  to  see  the  beautiful  things 
Miss  Gibbie  has  done.  Of  course,  Yorkburg  doesn't 
understand;  doesn't  know  why  I  am  back,  and  why 
I  am  living  alone  save  for  the  servants;  and  some 
don't  approve.  That  the  once  chanty  child  who 
lived  at  the  asylum  should  now  own  Tree  Hill  is 
something  of  a  trial,  and  that  it  could  happen  without 
their  knowledge  or  consent  is  grievous  unto  them. 
But  they  have  been  so  good  to  me,  all  the  old  friends; 
are  glad,  they  say,  to  have  me  back,  and  I  am  so 
happy  to  be  back.  There  have  been  changes,  but  not 
many.  The  mills  and  factories  have  brought  new 

25 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

people,  some  of  the  old  ones  have  died,  the  little  ones 
grown  up,  several  have  married  and  gone  away  to 
live,  but  it  is  the  same  sunshiny  little  place,  and  I 
love  it.  In  the  months  spent  with  Miss  Gibbie, 
waiting  for  Tree  Hill  to  be  made  ready  to  live  in, 
there  was  the  restless  feeling  that  belongs  to  tem 
porary  arrangement,  but  now  I  am  home;  here  to 
live  and  work,  and  the  only  shadow  is  that  the  big 
and  little  Aldens  are  not  here,  too.  And  what  a  relief 
to  Miss  Gibbie  to  be  once  more  by  herself!  I  couldn't 
keep  people  away,  and  I  was  constantly  afraid  she 
would  take  a  broom  and  sweep  them  out.  How  she 
does  hate  to  have  people  in  her  house  unless  she 
sends  for  them!  Man  may  not  have  been  meant  to 
live  alone,  but  Miss  Gibbie  was — " 

The  rustle  of  skirts  made  her  look  up,  and  quickly 
she  was  on  her  feet,  her  arms  around  her  visitor's 
waist,  cheek  pressed  close  to  cheek. 

"Oh,  dear,  I  am  so  glad  you've  come.  I  was 
going—" 

"To  choke  me,  crush  me,  knock  me  down  and  sit 
on  me,  were  you  ?  Well,  you're  to  do  nothing  of  the 
kind.  And  it's  too  hot  to  embrace.  Stand  straight 
and  let  me  look  at  you.  How  did  you  sleep  last 
night?" 

"I  don't  know.  Wasn't  awake  long  enough  to 
find  out.  Oh,  Miss  Gibbie,  if  you  were  a  little  girl 
I'd  play  all  around  the  green  grass  with  you!  Apple- 
Blossom  Land  is  the  place  to  play  it  in,  and  this  is 

26 


APPLE-BLOSSOM    LAND 

Apple-Blossom  Land!     And  to  think — to  think  that 
it  is  mine!" 

"Why  not?  Why  shouldn't  what  you  want  be 
yours  ?  Heaven  knows  an  old  house  on  a  hilltop, 
with  some  twisted  trees  on  the  side  and  cornfields  at 
the  back,  isn't  much  to  dance  over;  but  things  have 
in  them  what  we  get  out  of  them,  and  if  you  will  stop 
hugging  me  and  get  me  something  to  sit  on  I  will  be 
obliged." 

"Will  the  rug  do?" 

"  Rug  ?  How  could  I  get  up  if  I  ever  got  down  ? 
No.  Get  me  a  chair.  What  are  you  out  here  for, 
anyhow  ?  Bugs  and  bees  and  birds  may  like  such 
places,  but  being  a  mere  human  being  I  prefer 
indoors." 

"Then  we  will  go  in.  I  came  out  here  so  as  to 
be  not  at  home  if  any  one  came  up  to  see  me." 

"Hiding,  are  you?  If  you  don't  want  to  see 
people,  why  see  them  ?"  She  waved  her  turkey- 
wing  fan  inquiringly.  "Nonsense  such  as  this 
will  force  you  on  the  roof,  if  you'd  say  your  prayers 
in  private,  and  you're  making  a  bad  beginning. 
Have  you  got  that  list  of  the  councilmen  ?  I  want 
to  see  it  again." 

Mary  Gary  picked'  up  her  writing-materials, 
crumbled  the  bread  and  threw  it  to  the  birds,  and, 
with  arm  in  Miss  Gibbie's,  turned  toward  the  house. 

"It's  on  the  library  table.  I've  seen  every  one 
of  them.  I'm  sure  it's  going  to  be  all  right." 

27 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

"You  are?  That's  because  you  are  yet  young. 
Never  be  sure  a  man  in  politics  is  going  to  do  what 
he  says  until  he  does  it.  When  he  makes  you  a 
promise,  just  ask  him  to  kindly  put  his  name  to  it. 
I'm  like  a  darkey — I've  more  confidence  in  a  piece 
of  paper  with  some  writing  on  it  than  in  the  spoken 
word.  Men  mean  well,  and  they'll  promise  a  woman 
heaven  or  hell  to  get  rid  of  her,  but  you  can't  trust 
them.  How  about  Mr.  Chinn  r" 

"Hardest  of  all.  He  can't  speak  correctly,  and  has 
never  been  out  of  Yorkburg  a  week  in  his  life.  And 
yet  he  says  we've  got  as  good  streets  as  we  need,  and 
he  doesn't  approve  of  all  this  education,  anyhow." 

"Naturally.  People  are  generally  opposed  to 
things  they  know  nothing  about.  Here,  Hedwig, 
take  my  hat  and  bring  me  some  iced  tea — and  next 
time  your  Fraulein  hides  in  the  orchard  you  can  find 
her  and  not  send  me  there." 

Blowing  somewhat  from  her  walk,  Miss  Gibbie 
dropped  in  a  chair  in  the  hall,  unfastened  the  strings 
of  her  broad-brimmed  hat  and  handed  it  to  Hedwig. 
Spreading  out  her  ample  skirts,  she  pulled  off  her 
white  cotton  gloves,  opened  the  bag  hanging  from 
her  waist,  took  from  it  a  handkerchief  of  finest 
thread,  and  with  it  wiped  her  face.  After  a  moment 
she  glanced  around.  "A  house  knows  when  it  is 
occupied.  Sleeping  here  has  given  things  a  different 
air."  She  looked  at  the  girl  standing  in  front  of 
her,  hands  clasped  behind,  and  the  turkey-wing  fan 

28 


APPLE-BLOSSOM    LAND 

stopped  on  its  backward  motion.  "You  are  sure 
you  will  not  be  lonely  ?  Sure  you  will  not  be 
afraid  ?" 

"Afraid!  I'm  not  just  Mary  Gary,  I'm  Martha 
Gary  also.  Martha  has  never  been  afraid,  and  Mary 
has  never  been  lonely  in  her  life.  And  I  love  it  so, 
my  little  Harmony  House!  Oh,  Miss  Gibbie,  you 
have  been  so  good,  so  precious  good!"  The  strong 
young  arms  reached  down,  and  on  her  warm  breast 
she  drew  the  anxious  face  of  the  older  woman, 
kissed  it  swiftly,  then  pushed  her  back  against  the 
cushions.  "  If  only  you  would  let  me  tell  how  good 
you've  been!" 

"If  only  you  would  behave  yourself  and  get  me 
some  tea  I  would  think  more  of  you.  There  are 
many  things  I  might  forgive,  but  never  the  telling 
of  my  private  affairs.  Where  is  that  list  of  City 
Fathers  ?  Here,  get  me  another  chair.  One  feels 
like  a  kitty  puss  on  a  feather-bed  in  a  thing  of  this 
kind.  I  prefer  to  sit  like  a  human  being." 

With  an  effort  she  extricated  herself  from  the 
depths  of  the  big  chintz-covered  chair  and  took  a 
tall  straight  one  near  the  table  on  which  Hedwig 
was  placing  iced  tea  and  sandwiches,  and  as  she 
reached  for  the  tea  with  her  right  hand,  she  held 
out  her  left  for  the  paper  Mary  Gary  was  bringing  to 
.her. 

She  glanced  down  its  length,  and  for  some  mo 
ments  drank  her  tea  in  silence  save  for  an  occasional 

29 


grunt  which  was  half  sniff,  half  snort;  then  as  she 
put  down  her  glass  and  took  up  a  sandwich  she 
waved  the  paper  in  good-natured  derision. 
"And  that's  what  governs  us — that! 

"  Oh,  august  body  of  assembled  men, 
The  gods  in  thee  have   come  to  earth  again!'5 

She  bit  into  the  sandwich  and  again  skimmed  the 
paper.  "These  are  the  individuals  who  make  our 
local  laws  and  do  with  our  taxes  what  they  will. 
Listen : 

"*i.  Josiah  Chinn,  Undertaker/  Deals  with  the 
dead.  An  eye  single  to  the  grave. 

'"2.  Franklin  Semph,  Machine  Agent/  Travels. 
Sleeps  home  two  nights  in  the  week.  Drinks. 

"'3.  Richard  Moon,  President  Woolen  Mills/  In 
council  as  matter  of  conscience.  Only  attends  when 

* 

Mary  Gary  makes  him. 

"'4.  Jefferson  Mowry.  Chewer  and  spitter/  Liv 
ery  business.  Reads  less  than  he  writes — neverwrites. 

" ' 5.  Jacob  Walstein,  born  Pawnbroker,  now 
Banker/  Rich  and  rising. 

'"6.  Williamson  Brent,  General  Merchandise/ 
Votes  as  he's  told  by  the  last  person  who  tells. 
Putty  man. 

"'7.  Blacker  Ash,  Secretary  and  Treasurer  of 
Yorkburg  Shoe  Factory/  Sensible  and  good  worker. 
Bachelor.  Does  as  Miss  Gary  tells  him. 

"'8.  John  Armitage.  Soap-box  politician/  Clerk 

3° 


APPLE-BLOSSOM    LAND 

in  Mr.  Blick's  grocery  store.  Salary  eight  dollars 
per  week.  When  it's  ten  he  will  marry;  told  me  so. 

"'9.  Robertson  Grey,  Lawyer.'  Well  born  and 
lazy. 

"'10.  Patrick  Milligan.'  Whiskey  business  and 
good  talker.  Slippery." 

She  crumpled  the  paper  and  threw  it  at  the  girl 
standing  in  front  of  her.  "There,"  she  said,  "there's 
the  list  of  your  Yorkburg  Fathers.  I  hope  Hedwig 
will  fumigate  you  when  you  get  home  to-night." 

"She  will  if  necessary."  The  crumpled  paper  was 
smoothed  and  folded  carefully.  "But  I  don't  be 
lieve  it  will  be.  I've  taken  tea  with  most  of  their 
families." 

"You've  taken  what?"  Miss  Gibbie  bounced 
half-way  out  of  her  chair. 

"  Tea."  Mary  Gary's  head  nodded  affirmatively. 
"  That's  what  I  said,  tea — I  mean  supper.  I  invited 
myself  to  some  of  the  places,  but  some  of  the  people 
invited  me  themselves.  I'm  afraid  I  did  hint  a 
little.  But  we  had  a  good  time,  and  I've  got  my 
little  piece  of  paper — see!" 

She  held  a  note-book  toward  Miss  Gibbie,  but  the 
latter  waved  it  back.  "  Do  you  mean  you  sat  down 
at  the  table  and  ate  with  them  ?" 

"That's  what  I  did.  It  would  have  been  better 
could  they  have  sat  down  at  my  table  and  eaten  with 
me,  for  then  I  could  have  selected  the  things  to  eat, 
and  food  makes  such  a  difference  in  a  man's  feelings- 

31 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

But  there  isn't  such  a  great  difference  in  people 
when  you  know  them  through  and  through,  and  I 
had  a  lovely  time  taking  supper  with  them.  I  really 
did.  I  told  you  about  the  Milligans.  Don't  you  re 
member  I  was  sick  the  next  day  ?" 

Miss  Gibbie  shook  her  head.  "Never  told  me. 
Glad  you  were  sick." 

"Not  sick  enough  to  hurt,  or  to  keep  me  from  the 
Mowrys  the  next  night.  The  Mowrys  didn't  have 
but  four  kinds  of  bread  and  three  kinds  of  cake  and 
two  kinds  of  meats  and  some  other  things,  but  you 
couldn't  see  a  piece  of  Mrs.  Milligan's  table-cloth  as 
big  as  a  salt-cellar,  it  was  so  full  of  food.  I  took 
some  of  everything  on  the  table.  Mr.  Milligan  kept 
handing  me  things  from  his  end  and  Mrs.  Milligan 
from  her  end,  and  the  little  Milligans  from  the  sides, 
and  we  laughed  so  much  and  I  tried  so  hard  to  eat  I 
got  really  excited  about  it,  and  of  course  I  was  sick 
the  next  day.  But  it  didn't  matter.  We  had  a 
beautiful  time,  and  I  learned  things  I  never  knew 
before." 

She  dropped  on  her  knees  by  the  older  woman  and 
crossed  her  arms  on  her  lap.  "When  I  was  a  little 
girl,  Miss  Gibbie,  and  lived  here  in  the  asylum,  I  used 
to  wish  I  was  a  fairy  or  a  witch  or  a  wizard,  or  some 
thing  that  could  make  great  changes,  could  turn 
things  round  and  upside  down;  could  put  poor  peo 
ple  where  were  rich,  put  sad  ones  where  were  happy, 
put  the  lowly  where  were  the  high,  and  see  what 

32 


APPLE-BLOSSOM   LAND 

they  would  do.  And  in  the  years  I  have  been  away, 
almost  ten  years,  I  have  been  thinking  and  watching 
and  wondering  if  half  the  trouble  in  the  world  is  not 
from  misunderstanding,  from  not  knowing  each 
other  better.  And  how  can  we  know  if  each  stays 
in  his  own  little  world,  never  touches  the  other's 
life  ?"  She  laughed,  nodding  her  head.  "  I  wouldn't 
discuss  Flaubert  with  Mr.  Milligan  or  Greek  Art 
with  Mr.  Chinn,  but  they  can  tell  me  a  good  deal 
about  Yorkburg's  needs;  and,  after  all,  a  person's 
heart  is  more  important  than  his  head.  We  are 
educating  people  at  a  terrible  rate,  but  what  are  we 
going  to  do  about  it  if  we're  not  friends  when  we're 
through  ?  Of  course  you  can't  see  my  way.  You 
hate  dirty  people  to  come  near  you,  but  how  get  them 
clean  if  we  keep  from  them  ?" 

Miss  Gibbie  took  up  her  fan  and  used  it  as  if 
already  the  atmosphere  were  affected,  then  she 
tapped  the  face  in  front  of  her.  "  I  used  to  be  young 
once  and  dreamed  dreams,  but  I  dreamed  them  in 
my  own  house.  I  might  understand  how  you  could 
eat  with  any  sort  of  sinner — I've  eaten  with  all  sorts — 
but  with  people  who  put  their  knives  in  their  mouths 
and  don't  clean  their  finger-nails!" 

She  lay  back  in  her  chair,  chin  up  and  eyebrows 
lifted,  and  Mary  Gary,  getting  on  her  feet,  laughed, 
then  leaned  over  and  kissed  her. 

"To-morrow  night  I  am  going  to  the  McDougals'. 
Susie  McDougal's  beau,  Mr.  John  Armitage,  the 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

soap-box  politician,  is  to  be  there.     You  don't  mind, 
do  you  ?" 

Miss  Gibbie's  mouth,  eyes,  and  nose  all  screwed 
together,  and  the  turkey-wing  fan  was  held  at  arm's- 
length.  "He  uses  hair-oil.  Yes,  I  mind,  but  I  re 
member  I  was  not  to  interfere." 


IV 


THE    COUNCIL   CHAMBER 

ISS  GIBBIE  would  not  stay  to  dinner. 
"I  am  fond  of  you,  my  dear,"  she  said, 
tying  the  ribbon  strings  loosely  under  her 
chin,  "but  I  might  not  be  if  I  had  to  talk 
to  you  after  a  full  meal.  And  that's  the 
trouble  —  you  make  me  talk  too  much. 
If  you  prefer  this  middle-class  custom  of  a  mid-day 
dinner,  follow  it,  but  don't  ask  me  to  join  you." 

Mary  Gary  laughed.  "I  don't  think  it's  middle- 
class.  I  think  it's  nice;  it's  Southern."  Miss  Gib- 
bie's  broad-brimmed  hat  was  straightened,  the 
crumpled  ribbons  smoothed,  the  plump  cheeks 
kissed.  "  And  if  I  didn't  have  dinner  at  two  o'clock 
I  couldn't  have  supper  at  seven.  Thin  ham  and 
beaten  biscuits  and  salads  and  iced  tea  and  summer 
things  like  that  are  much  nicer  than  meats  and 
vegetables  and  desserts  on  warm  nights.  I'm  not 
stylish.  I'm  just  Mary  Gary,  who  loves  old-fashioned 
ways  and  things." 

"Old-fashioned  ways  and  things!"  Miss  Gibbie's 
hands  went  up.  " To-morrow  all  Yorkburg  will  be 

35 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

calling  you  a  young  woman  of  shocking  ideas,  one 
who  actually  knows  something  about  business, 
about  the  town's  financial  condition  and  the  things 
it  needs  and  should  have.  You  will  be  served  at 
breakfast,  dinner,  and  supper;  held  up  as  an  ex 
ample  of  the  pernicious  effects  of  higher  education 
followed  by  foreign  travel.  To-night  you  are  going 
to  do  what  has  never  been  done  here  before,  and  who 
is  going  to  imagine  you  love  old-fashioned  ways  and 
things  ?  A  woman  has  never  crossed  the  threshold 

O 

of  Yorkburg's  Council  Chamber — " 

"A  good  many  are  going  to  cross  it  to-night." 
Miss  Gibbie,  who  had  started  to  the  door,  turned. 
"You  mean  a  good  many  have  promised.  A  very 
different  thing.  Women  are  cowards  when  it  comes 
to  a  change  of  custom.  They  like  their  little  cages. 
They  would  rather  stay  in  and  look  on  than  come 
out  and  help.  Don't  expect  too  much  of  them. 
They  have  so  long  thought  as  men  told  them  God  in 
tended  them  to  think  that  it  will  take  time  for  them 
to  realize  the  Almighty  may  not  object  to  their  in 
quiring  if  they're  thinking  right  or  not.  Good-bye, 
child.  If  any  fireworks  go  off,  keep  your  head  and 
send  up  a  few  yourself.  Heavens,  if  I  were  young!" 
As  she  drove  off,  Mary  Cary  waved  to  her,  then 
turned  and  stood  a  moment  in  the  wide,  cool  hall, 
looking  first  in  the  library  on  the  right,  the  dining- 
room  on  the  left,  at  the  broad,  winding  staircase  in 
front,  and  through  the  open  door  at  the  end  to  the 

36 


THE   COUNCIL   CHAMBER 

orchard,  which  in  the  distance  could  be  glimpsed, 
and  her  hands  clasped  as  if  to  press  closely  the 
happiness  that  filled  her. 

It  was  hers,  all  hers.  The  dream  of  her  starved 
little  heart,  when,  as  a  child,  she  had  lived  in  the 
Yorkburg  Orphan  Asylum,  had  come  true.  She  had 
a  home  of  her  own. 

"And  I  didn't  have  to  take  a  husband  to  get  it," 
she  said,  nodding  her  head.  "That's  such  a  satis 
faction." 

She  dropped  in  the  big  chintz-covered  chair  and, 
with  elbows  on  its  arms  and  finger-tips  pressed  to 
cheeks,  surveyed  critically  the  size  and  shape  and 
furnishings  of  the  rooms,  then  sighed  in  happy 
content. 

"  It's  such  a  pity  so  many  people  still  think  a  home 
must  have  a  man  in  it.  If  a  man  belongs  to  you  and 
is  nice  he  might  make  the  home  nicer,  but"  —  she 
shook  her  head — "Mrs.  McDougal  says  there  are 
times  when  a  husband  is  a  great  trial.  I  haven't  any 
brothers  or  a  father,  and  I  don't  want  to  risk  a  trial 
yet.  The  reason  most  homes  need  men  is  because 
men  mean  money,  I  suppose.  You  can't  sneeze  with 
out  needing  money.  And  yet"-  -  she  looked  around 
— "everything  in  this  house  didn't  cost  as  much  as 
the  rug  Mrs.  Maxwell  has  on  her  drawing-room 
1  floor.  I  don't  wonder  John  loathes  his  house.  You 
can't  really  see  the  price-tags  on  the  things  in  it,  but 
you're  certain  you  could  find  them  if  you  had  the 

37 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

chance  to  look.  I  wonder  where  John's  letter  is  ?" 
She  got  up  and  went  into  the  library,  turned  over 
papers  and  magazines  on  desk  and  tables,  then  rang 
for  He  d wig. 

"The  mail?"  she  said.  "Where  did  you  put  the 
letters  this  morning  ?" 

Hedwig  shook  her  head.  "There  no  letters  were 
this  morning,  mein  Fraulein.  Not  one  at  all." 

"That's  queer!  All  right."  Hedwig  was  waved 
away.  "I  wonder  if  anything  is  the  matter?  Of 
course  there  isn't — only — there  haven't  been  three 
Mondays  since  I  left  here  that  John's  letter  didn't 
come  on  the  early  mail."  She  straightened  a  rose 
that  was  falling  out  of  a  jar  and  stood  off  to  watch  the 
effect.  "Nobody  but  John  would  write  every  week, 
when  I  don't  write  once  in  four — don't  even  read 
his  letters  for  days  after  they  come,  sometimes.  But 
I  like  to  know  they're  here.  I  believe" — she  clasped 
her  hands  behind  her  head — "I  believe  I  wish  I  had 
let  him  come  down  to-night.  No,  I  don't.  But  why 
didn't  he  write?  He  ought  to  have  known — " 

o 

She  turned  away.  "It  would  serve  me  right  if  he 
never  wrote  again." 

By  seven  o'clock  she  was  on  her  way  to  the  monthly 
meeting  of  the  town  council,  which  meeting  was 
always  held  on  the  second  Monday  evening  in  the 
month,  and  as  she  started  off  she  waved  to  Hedwig, 
standing  in  the  door. 

"Telephone  Miss  Gibbie  not  to  sit  up  for  me," 

38 


THE   COUNCIL   CHAMBER 

she  called  back.  "I'm  going  to  stay  all  night  with 
her,  but  it  may  be  late  before  I  get  there.  Don't 
forget!"  And  again  the  hand  was  waved;  and  as 
she  drove  down  the  dusty  road,  Ephraim  beside  her, 
the  uncertainty  of  the  morning  faded  and  her  spirits 
rose  at  the  prospect  of  the  experience  awaiting. 

"You  see,"  she  thought  to  herself,  "I've  had  the 
advantage  of  being  poor  and  not  expecting  things  to 
go  just  as  I  want  them,  so  it  takes  a  great  deal  to  dis 
courage  me.  When  you're  dealing  with  human  na 
ture  it's  the  unexpected  you  must  expect.  'Human 
nature  are  a  rascal,'  Mrs.  McDougal  says,  and  Mrs. 
McDougal's  observations  come  terribly  near  being 
true."  She  laughed  and  whistled  softly,  but  at 
Ephraim's  discreet  cough  stopped  and  turned  toward 
him. 

"  I  oughtn't  to  do  it,  ought  I,  Ephraim  ?  It  isn't 
nice.  I  am  afraid  I  forget  sometimes  I  am  really 
and  truly  grown  up." 

"I  reckon  you  does."  Ephraim  touched  his  hat. 
"You's  right  smart  of  a  child  yet  in  some  things, 
'count  of  yo'  young  heart,  I  reckon.  I  ain't  never 
seen  nobody  who  could  see  the  sunny  side  like  you 
kin,  but  it  ain't  all  sunny,  Miss  Mary,  this  worl'  ain't, 
and  there's  a  lot  of  pesky  people  in  it."  He  coughed 
again.  "Sometimes  folks  seem  to  forgit  you  is  your 
grandpa's  grandchild.  Yo'  grandpa  was  the  high- 
steppinist  gentleman  I  ever  seen  in  my  life,  but  since 
you-  been  goin*  down  among  them  mill  folks  and 
4  39 


MISS   GIBBIE    GAULT 

factory  folks  and  takin'  an  intrus'  in  'em,  lookin' 
into  how  things  is,  some  of  them  King  Street  people 
seem  to  think,  scusin'  of  my  sayin'  it,  that  maybe  it's 
yo'  father's  blood  what's  comin'  out  in  you." 

Mary  Gary  laughed.  "I  hope  it  is.  My  father 
was  a  very  sensible  gentleman,  and  didn't  ask  others 
what  he  must  or  must  not  do.  But  his  people  in 
England  would  be  more  shocked  than — "  She 
stopped  and  her  lips  twisted  in  a  queer  little  smile. 
"  Put  me  down  here,  Ephraim.  I  am  going  first  to 
Mrs.  Corbin's." 

Twenty  minutes  later  she  and  Mrs.  Corbin  walked 
up  the  steps  of  the  side  entrance  of  the  town  hall  into 
the  room  where  all  public  meetings  were  held,  and 
where  all  business  connected  with  the  town's  interest 
was  transacted.  As  they  reached  the  top  the  hum 
of  many  voices  greeted  them.  The  narrow  passage 
way  was  half  filled  with  men.  Some  were  standing, 
hands  in  pockets;  some,  balancing  themselves  on  the 
railing,  with  feet  twisted  around  its  spokes,  held  their 
hands  loosely  clasped  in  front,  while  others  leaned 
against  the  wall,  scribbled  over  with  pencil  -  marks 
and  finger-prints  of  varying  sizes,  and  ahead,  through 
the  open  door,  could  be  seen  both  men  and  women. 

As  they  came  nearer,  those  on  the  railing  jumped 
down;  those  leaning  against  the  wall  straightened, 
and  those  in  front  made  way,  while  hats  came  off  and 
spitting  ceased. 

"Good-evening,"  she  said.  "We  are  going-  to 

40 


THE   COUNCIL   CHAMBER 

have  a  nice  meeting,  aren't  we  ?"  She  held  out  her 
hand.  "How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Jernigan.  Is  Jamie 
better  to-night?" 

"Yes,  ma'am;  thank  you,  ma'am.  He's  right  sharp 
better  to-night.  He's  pleased  as  Punch  over  those 
drawing  things  you  sent  him.  Been  at  'em  all  day." 

"That's  good."  She  reached  the  door,  then 
turned,  taking  off  her  long,  light  coat  which  covered 
the  white  dress.  "Aren't  you  men  coming  in  ?" 

"  Yes'm — that  is,  those  of  us  what  can."  It  was 
Mr.  Flournoy,  foreman  of  the  woolen  mills,  who 
spoke.  "There  ain't  much  room  in  there  left  and 
they  say  some  more  ladies  is  coming,  so  we  thought 
we  might  as  well  stay  out  as  come  out.  We  can  hear 
all  right." 

"I'm  sorry.  The  women  ought  not  to  take  the 
men's  places.  Can't  you — " 

"Oh,  that's  all  right."  Mr.  Jernigan  waved  his 
hat  toward  her.  "We  done  our  work  before  we 
come  here.  Ain't  a  man  in  the  council  what  don't 
know  how  we  stand,  and  what  we  won't  do  for  them 
is  a  plenty  if  they  don't  tote  square.  You  just  go  on 
in,  Miss  Cary — you  and  Mrs.  Corbin." 

As  they  entered  the  room  there  was  much  uprising 
and  many  seats  were  offered,  but  with  a  nod  here  and 
there  they  made  their  way  toward  a  window  near 
4  which  Mrs.  Webb  and  Mrs.  Moon  were  sitting  and 
took  two  chairs  which  had  been  kept  for  them.  To 
the  left  were  Mrs.  Brent  and  Mrs.  Burnham,  to  the 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

right  Miss  Mittie  Muncaster  and  Mrs.  Dunn,  while 
behind  was  Miss  Amelia  Taylor,  president  of  the 
Mother's  Club,  with  Miss  Victor  Redway,  the  new 
kindergarten  teacher  from  Kentucky.  A  dozen 
other  women,  scattered  in  groups  here  and  there, 
were  whispering  as  if  at  a  home  funeral,  and  along 
the  walls  men,  ranged  in  rows,  hats  in  hands,  chewed 
with  something  of  nervous  uncertainty  as  to  the  wis 
dom  of  the  innovation  which  they  were  about  to 
witness.  In  a  large  chair  on  a  small  platform  Mr. 
Chinn,  president  of  the  council,  sat  in  solemn  silence, 
•gavel  in  hand,  waiting  for  the  hour  to  strike,  and  for 
once  in  its  history  all  ten  of  the  city  fathers  were 
on  time  and  in  place. 

"You  may  not  mind  this,  Mary,  but  I  do,"  said 
Mrs.  Moon  half  under  her  breath.  "I'm  not  used 
to  these  new-fashioned  ways  of  doing  things.  I  feel 
like  I  haven't  got  on  all  my  clothes.  I  came  because 
you  told  me  I  ought  to,  and  of  course  women  should 

take  interest  in  things  of  this  sort,  but  I  don't  like  it. 
I » 

"Then  you  were  dear  to  come."  And  Mary  gave 
the  soft,  pretty  hands  a  squeeze.  "I  don't  like  it 
either,  but  neither  do  I  like  Yorkburg's  not  having  a 
high  school.  Don't  look  so  uneasy.  Nobody  is  go 
ing  to  bite.  Have  you  seen  Mr.  Milligan  ?  A  frog 
couldn't  look  more  like  a  frog.  He'll  pop  presently, 
he's  so  pleased  about  something.  There — they're 
going  to  begin." 

42 


THE   COUNCIL   CHAMBER 

She  leaned  back  in  her  chair,  and  as  Mr.  Chinn 
rose  in  his  seat  and  rapped  on  the  table  the  crowd 
in  the  passage  pressed  closer  to  the  door.  All  who 
could  came  inside,  but  no  longer  was  there  standing- 
room,  and  the  air  that  might  have  come  through  the 
open  windows  was  kept  back  by  the  men  who  had 
climbed  up  in  them  and  were  swinging  their  feet 
below. 

The  gavel  again  sounded.  "The  meeting  will 
come  to  order!" 

Mr.  Chinn,  in  his  long  frock-coat  and  white  string 
tie,  stood  a  moment  surveying  with  mournful  eye  the 
crowded  room,  and  in  his  voice,  as  he  repeated  "The 
meeting  will  come  to  order!"  was  the  assurance  that 
all  flesh  is  as  grass,  and  though  in  a  field  it  may 
flourish  it  will  finally  be  cut  down. 

But  not  yet  could  the  meeting  come  to  order.  As 
Mr.  Simson,  the  clerk,  stood  up  and  began  to  call 
the  roll  there  was  the  shuffle  of  many  feet  in  the  hall 
and  the  men  near  the  door  parted  to  make  way  for 
late  but  determined  arrivals. 

"Mrs.  McDougal  and  every  blessed  member  of 
her  family!" 

Under  her  breath  Mary  Cary  laughed,  then 
beckoned,  and  in  pressed  Mrs.  McDougal  and  made 
her  way  toward  the  platform,  undismayed  by  the 
'  gazing,  smiling  crowd.  Behind  were  her  five  boys 
and  four  girls,  and  behind  them  Mr.  McDou 
gal,  but  in  the  shelter  of  Mr.  Blick's  broad 

43 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

back  Mr.  McDougal  stopped  and  was  seen  no 
more. 

But  Mrs.  McDougal  was  seen.  Ushering  the 
children  ahead,  she  placed  them  one  by  one  on  the 
edge  of  the  platform,  at  the  feet  of  Mr.  Chinn,  all  but 
Susie,  who  with  flaming  face  had  sought  refuge  on 
half  of  Mary  Gary's  chair,  then  she  waved  to  Mr. 
Simson,  the  clerk. 

"Please  hold  on  a  minute,  Mr.  Simson,"  she 
called.  "I'm  awful  sorry  we're  late,  but  them  five 
voters  to  be  was  hard  to  get  fixed  in  time.  They 
know  what  they're  here  for  and  I  don't  want  'em  to 
miss  a  word.  Sit  still  there,  JefF!"  She  jabbed  the 
latter,  who  was  wriggling,  back  in  his  place  and  took 
from  Billy  the  cap  he  was  nervously  chewing,  then 
seating  herself  between  the  younger  set  of  twins  she 
again  waved  her  hand. 

"Now  you  can  go  on." 

Thus  permitted,  Mr.  Simson  began  the  reading  of 
the  minutes  of  the  last  meeting  in  quick  staccato  sen 
tences,  and  as  he  took  his  seat  Mr.  Chinn  again 
sounded  the  gavel  and  in  an  attitude  of  resignation 
asked  if  there  were  corrections. 

None  being  suggested,  the  minutes  were  ap 
proved.  The  regular  business  of  the  meeting  forth 
with  began,  and  the  atmosphere,  which  had  been  a 
little  tense,  relaxed.  As  if  to  show  his  ease  and 
familiarity  with  an  unusual  situation,  Mr.  Mowry 
cut  off  a  large  piece  of  tobacco,  crossed  his  hands 


THE   COUNCIL   CHAMBER 

\ 

behind  his  head,  and  lifted  his  right  leg  on  the  top 
of  the  small  oak  desk  which  was  supposed  to  con 
tain  pen  and  paper  for  personal  use,  but  which  had 
thus  far  served  only  as  a  footstool;  and  as  he  did  so 
he  winked  at  young  Armitage,  whose  face  was  a  fiery 
flame,  and  whose  hands,  wet  with  perspiration,  were 
twisting  in  nervous  knots  a  handkerchief  of  highly 
colored  border. 

Little  by  little  routine  matters  were  disposed  of,  and, 
finally,  there  being  no  further  excuse  for  delay,  the 
call  for  new  business  was  made  and  Mr.  Milligan 
arose.  With  fingers  in  the  armholes  of  his  vest, 
with  shoulders  back  and  chest  expanded,  he  bowed 
with  smiling  eyes  to  the  platform,  to  the  crowded 
room,  to  the  ladies  at  his  right,  and  as  he  bowed  there 
was  stir  and  rustle  and  the  straining  forward  of  necks 
and  heads. 

"Mr.  President" — his  heels  were  lifted  from  the 
floor  and  he  balanced  himself  on  tiptoe  —  "Mr. 
President,  members  of  the  Yorkburg  Council,  fellow- 
citizens,  and  ladies" — again  he  bowed  profoundly — 
"a  distinguished  honor  has  been  bestowed  upon  me 
to-night,  and  as  long  as  life  shall  last  I  will  look  back 
upon  this  occasion  as  the  proudest  moment  of  my 
life.  We  have  met  to-night  not  only  to  do  our  plain 
duty  as  citizens  of  a  noble  town,  but  to  look  with 
far-seeing  eyes  into  that  great  future  which  stretches 
endlessly  and  forever  on,  and  which  can  be  made  as 
beautiful  as — er,  as — er  the  New  Jerusalem  or — er, 

45 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

or — er  Richmond  or  New  York.  We  must  show  the 
watching  world  that  we  citizens  of  old  Yorkburg" 
his  right  hand  made  a  wide  inclusive  sweep — "we 
citizens  are  awake,  are  up  and  looking  around.  We 
are  no  longer  dead  poor.  Money  is  nine-tenths  of 
much  in  life,  but  the  other  tenth  is  a  busting  big  part. 
It's  made  of  sense  and  hustle,  and  it's  up  to  us  to 
prove  it!  We've  been  excusin'  of  ourselves  by  saying 
poverty  has  paralyzed  us,  and  we  couldn't  do  this 
and  we  couldn't  do  that,  because  we  didn't  have  the 
cash.  Well,  I'm  here  to  say  it  ain't  so.  What  we've 
been  lackin'  ain't  so  much  the  money  as  the  spirit, 
and  it's  took  a  woman  to  make  us  find  it  out." 

Back  from  the  windows  came  a  clapping  of  hands, 
from  the  doors  a  stamping  of  feet,  and  in  the  enforced 
pause  Mr.  Milligan  wiped  his  shining  face  and 
swallowed  hastily  from  the  glass  of  water  on  the 
table. 

"In  my  poor  way,  members  of  the  Yorkburg 
Council,"  he  began  again — this  time  fingers  inter 
laced  and  resting  on  his  breast — "in  my  poor  way  I 
am  here  to  present  this  lady  to  you.  She  don't 
need  to  be  introduced  to  man,  woman,  or  child  in 
this  community.  She  used  to  live  here,  and  when 
she  went  away  something  left  Yorkburg  that  every 
body  wished  would  come  back.  'Twas  a  sort  of 
sunshine.  We  didn't  think  she'd  ever  find  the  way 
back.  There  was  a  heap  to  make  her  forget,  but  she 
didn't  forget.  Love  found  the  way,  and  she's  back. 

46 


THE   COUNCIL   CHAMBER 

Since  she  left  she's  seen  a  lot  of  life.  She's  been 
around  the  world,  in  the  big  cities  and  the  little 
cities,  and  she's  kept  her  eyes  open  and  her  mind 
open  and  her  heart  open,  and  there's  much  she  could 
tell  about  what's  wrong  with  us,  but  that  ain't  her 
way.  She  is  here  to-night  to  bring  some  matters  to 
your  attention  which  I  hope  you  will  consider  with 
intelligence  and  appreciation,  and  just  here  I'd  like 
to  say  that  even  if  I  didn't  know  what  they  were  I 
would  say  in  advance,  *  You  could  put  my  vote  down 
for  'em,  Mr.  Clerk/  I  ain't  saying  all  women  have 
business  sense.  They  ain't  got  it,  but  when  they 
have,  it's  the  far-seeingest  sense  on  earth,  and  there 
ain't  a  star  in  the  heavens  a  man  can't  climb  to  when 
a  woman  of  that  kind  gives  him  a  lift!" 

Again  a  shuffle  of  feet,  but  Mr.  Chinn's  gavel  came 
down  heavily.  He  turned  in  his  chair  and  looked 
first  at  Mr.  Milligan  and  then  at  the  clock. 

"Oh,  I  know  I'm  talking  too  long,  but,  being  started, 
it's  hard  to  stop,"  and  Mr.  Milligan  wiped  his  per 
spiring  face  and  nodded  good-naturedly  at  solemn 
Mr.  Chinn.  "Fm  through,  but  I  know  I  voice  the 
sentiments  of  every  member  of  this  honorable  body 
when  I  say  it  is  highly  honored  by  the  presence  here 
to-night  of  lovely  woman !  What  would  life  be  with 
out  her  ?  As  babies,  she  borns  us;  as  boys,  she  bosses 
us;  as  men,  she  owns  us;  at  death,  she  buries  us,  and 
she  alone  puts  flowers  on  man's  grave!  Man  was 
made  to  do  her  bidding,  Mr.  President,  and  if  he's 

47 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

smart  he'll  do  it  quick.  Members  of  the  council, 
ladies,  and  gentlemen,  I  have  the  honor  of  presenting 
to  you  Miss  Mary  Gary,  the  granddaughter  of  a  once 
chief  justice  of  England  and  of  Mayor  Alden,  a  dis 
tinguished  citizen  of  Virginia." 


IN   WHICH    MARY   GARY   SPEAKS 


HE  flourish  of  Mr.  Milligan's  hand  as 
Mary  Gary  rose  and  came  toward  the 
platform  was  not  to  be  resisted  by  Mrs. 
McDougal,  who  was  clapping  vehemently. 
She  gave  the  hand  a  resounding  smack. 

"Fine  words,  Mr,  Milligan,  fine  words! 
But  a  dead  Irishman  would  make  a  good  speech  if 
you'd  touch  his  tongue.  You're  an  orationer,  you 
are.  Set  down,  quick!  Miss  Gary  is  going  to 
speak." 

"Mr.  President,  gentlemen  of  the  council."  The 
clear,  fresh  voice  carried  to  the  far  corners  of  the 
room  and  upon  the  latter  fell  vibrating  silence. 
"Yorkburg's  fiscal  year  ending  in  June  in  the  next 
few  weeks,  the  annual  budget  for  the  coming  twelve 
months  will  be  fixed  by  you.  Before  this  budget  is 
made  up  I  am  going  to  ask  you  to  act  upon  three 
propositions.  Last  year  the  total  revenue  of  the 
*  town  was  $16,907.23,  and  your  expenditures  some 
thing  under  one  thousand  dollars  less  than  your 
income.  Out  of  your  sinking-fund  you  retired  a 

49 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

large  proportion  of  your  outstanding  bonds,  with  the 
result  that  your  indebtedness  is  now  sufficiently  small 
to  justify  your  increasing  it.  I  am  here  to-night  to 
ask  you  to  issue,  during  the  next  three  months,  fifty 
thousand  dollars'  worth  of  city  bonds,  interest  on 
which  is  to  be  3  per  cent.,  payable  semi-annually. 
If  you  will  agree  to  do  this  promptly,  Bartlett, 
Cramp  &  Company,  of  New  York,  will  take  the 
entire  amount  at  once.  At  the  expiration  of  twenty 
years  these  bonds  are  to  be  retired." 

"In  the  name  of  glory!" 

The  words,  half  smothered,  sounded  even  to  the 
platform,  and  Mary  Cary,  catching  them,  laughed 
and  nodded  toward  the  source  from  which  they  came. 

"Is  there  anything  you  wish  to  say,  Mr.  Billisoly, 
before  I  go  on  ?" 

The  latter  rose  to  his  feet,  put  his  hand  to  his 
mouth,  coughed,  and  looked  at  Mr.  Chinn. 

"Yes'm,  there  is.  Fifty  thousand  dollars  is  a 
powerful  lot  of  money  to  borrow  at  one  clip, 
and—" 

"Three  per  cent,  interest  is  powerful  little  money 
to  pay  for  its  use,"  she  answered,  smiling.  "But 
that  isn't  all  I  am  here  to  say.  If  you  don't  mind  and 
will  let  me  get  through  it  will  save  time,  and  then 
questions  can  be  asked  and  answered.  Last  year 
the  rate  of  interest  on  all  taxable  property  was  one 
dollar  and  twenty-five  cents  per  one  hundred  dollars. 
This  year,  Mr.  Councilmen,  if  you  really  love  York- 

5° 


burg,  you  will  raise  it  to  one  dollar  and  thirty-five 
.  cents. 

"Oh,  I  know."  She  laughed  and  lifted  her  hand 
as  if  to  stop  the  unspoken  protest  of  certain  stirrings. 
"I  know  the  name  of  taxes  isn't  truly  pleasant  to 
any  one.  But  I  have  with  me  a  list  of  taxpayers 
who  agree  to  the  increase  asked  for,  and  if  you  would 
like  to  see  it,  there  is  no  objection  to  your  doing  so." 

She  opened  her  bag  and  took  from  it  a  roll  of  paper, 
and  as  she  unwound  it  she  threw  one  end  to  Mr.  Ash, 
the  chairman  of  the  finance  committee. 

"This,"  she  said,  "is  a  list  of  the  people  who  love 
their  town  enough  to  put  their  hands  in  their  pockets 
to  prove  it.  A  truly  trying  test!"  She  held  up  her 
end  of  the  paper.  "There,"  she  said,  "there  is  the 
list." 

Instinctively  many  leaned  forward  to  see  the  paper 
which  for  reasons  of  her  own  she  had  made  in  one 
long,  narrow  ribbon,  and  as  they  did  so  she  laughed 
again  and  nodded  to  the  men  at  the  desks.  "The 
will  of  your  constituents. 

"And  now" — she  stepped  back — "there  is  one 
thing  more.  Yorkburg  has  a  friend  who  is  greatly 
interested  in  its  welfare.  This  friend  believes  the 
time  has  come  when  the  town  should  take  stock  of 
itself,  should  look  itself  in  the  face  and  see  just  what 
'  sort  of  a  town  it  is,  and  what  it  may  be.  As  a  friend 
of  this  friend  of  Yorkburg  I  am  authorized  to  say 
that  if  this  issue  of  fifty  thousand  dollars'  worth  of 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

bonds  be  made  promptly,  the  like  amount  of  fifty 
thousand  dollars  will  be  at  once  deposited  by  Bartlett, 
Cramp  &  Company  to  the  credit  of  your  finance 
committee,  said  amount  to  be  used  for  the  relaying 
out  of  the  town,  the  proper  paving  of  streets,  the 
planting  of  shade-trees,  and  the  cleaning  up  of  dirty 
places." 

For  a  moment  there  was  palpitating  silence.  No 
one  moved.  Eyes  were  fixed  on  her  as  if  ears  had 
not  heard  aright.  The  heads  of  some  leaned  for 
ward,  the  bodies  of  others  leaned  back,  then  the 
clearing  of  throats  and  the  shuffling  of  feet  broke 
the  pause  that  followed  the  statement  which  had  just 
been  heard,  and  back  toward  the  door  Mr.  Benny 
Brickhouse  arose. 

"  If  he  ain't  the  spittin*  image  of  an  orange  with 
two  peanuts  underneath  and  one  peanut  on  top,  I 
never  seen  one,"  said  Mrs.  McDougal  in  a  voice 
none  too  low,  "and  the  top  peanut  ain't  got  a 
thing  in  it.  Just  listen  at  his  cambric  -  needle 
squeak!" 

"Mr.  President."  The  thin,  piping  tones  caused 
many  to  look  around.  "  Mr.  President,  never  before 
in  its  history  has  the  council  of  Yorkburg  heard 
from  its  platform  such  astounding  propositions  as 
have  been  made  before  it  to-night.  The  young  lady 
who  has  made  them  is  doubtless  actuated  by  high 
and  lofty  motives,  but  it  is  not  to  be  expected  that  she 
should  know  what  she  is  doing.  It  is  out  of  her 

5* 


IN   WHICH   MARY   GARY   SPEAKS 

sphere,  sir,  the  sphere  in  which  God  put  woman  and 
meant  her  to  stay — " 

"Please,  sir,  Mr.  Chinn,  may  I  ask  Mr.  Brick- 
house  if  God  Almighty  told  him  He  put  woman  in 
a  sphere,  or  if  a  man  told  him  ?"  and  Mrs.  McDougal, 
on  her  feet,  held  up  her  hand  as  a  child  in  a  class 
room  who  asks  to  speak. 

Mr.  Chinn's  gavel  came  down  heavily  and  squelched 
the  titter  which  threatened  to  be  something  more. 
"Mr.  Brickhouse  has  the  floor,  Mrs.  McDougal." 

"And  likely  to  keep  it,  sir.  But  go  on,  Mr. 
Brickhouse,  go  on!  I  thought  maybe  you'd  just 
heard  from  the  Lord.  Beg  your  pardon,  sir." 

She  sat  down,  waving  her  hand  toward  the  round 
little  man,  speechless  with  amazement,  then  turned 
in  a  half  whisper  to  the  girl  at  her  side. 

"Let  him  talk,  Miss  Gary.  Nothing  shows  the 
kind  of  fool  you  are  as  quick  as  your  tongue.  Ba 
laam's  Brickhouse  won't  hurt  you." 

"  Mr.  President  " — the  interruption  was  ignored, 
and  only  the  trembling  of  the  fine,  thin  voice  gave 
evidence  of  anger — "  Mr.  Presid3nt,  Yorkburg  is  no 
pauper,  and  does  not  need  the  gift  which  has  been 
offered  it  to-night,  provided  it  will  acknowledge  it 
needs  to  be  cleaned  up.  Yorkburg  is  a  very  clean 
place.  Its  streets  were  good  enough  for  our  fathers, 
and  I,  for  one,  protest  against  the  supplanting  of  the 
trees  they  planted  by  the  planting  of  more!  We 
don't  want  more!  And  who  is  the  person  who  offers 

53 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

this  gift  ?  Why  is  his  name  withheld  ?  Is  he 
ashamed  of  it,  or  is  there  a  string  tied  to  it  which  we 
don't  see  yet  ?  What  does  the  party  want  of  us  in 
return  for  this  sum  of  money,  gotten  we  know  not 
how  ?  It  may  be  tarnished,  sir,  it  may  be  tarnished!" 
His  pudgy  little  hands  smote  the  air  with  something 
of  vehemence ;  then  remembering  that  excitement  was 
inelegant  he  wiped  them  carefully  with  his  handker 
chief,  clasped  them  righteously  together,  and  laid 
them  on  his  stomach. 

"And  I  would  like  to  ask  why  this  honorable  body 
is  called  on  to  pass  a  measure  which  will  plunge  this 
old  and  distinguished  town  in  such  enormous  in- 

O 

debtedness  ?"  he  began  again,  after  a  pause  which 
he  thought  impressive.  "Why  should  fifty  thou 
sand  dollars'  worth  of  bonds  be  issued  ?  For  what 
purpose  will  the  money  be  used  ?  Why  should  this 
great  increase  in  taxes  be  made  ?  WTiat  is  to  be 
done  with  the  money  drained  from  our  people,  who 
are  not  worshippers  of  Mammon  and  who  set  not 
their  hearts  on  mere  material  things  ?  I  beg  this 
honorable  body  not  to  be  led  astray.  It  will  be  a 
sad  day  for  this  city  of  a  precious  past — " 

He  stopped.  Mary  Gary's  eyes,  which  in  the  be 
ginning  of  his  speech  had  been  bent  on  a  letter  held 
in  her  hand  lest  the  laughter  in  them  be  seen,  were 
raised,  and  she  was  now  looking  at  him  with  a 
steadiness  which  was  disconcerting,  and  the  words 
died  upon  his  lips. 

54 


IN   WHICH   MARY   GARY   SPEAKS 

"Are  you  through,  Mr.  Brickhouse  ?" 

He  sat  down,  wiping  his  moist  face  limply.  "Yes, 
I  am  through." 

This  time  Mary  Gary,  who  had  been  standing  be 
low  the  platform,  stepped  upon  it,  and  the  letter  she 
had  been  holding  was  laid  upon  the  table. 

"I  am  very  much  obliged  to  Mr.  Brickhouse  for 
asking  the  questions  he  has  asked,"  she  began. 
"Except  the  name  of  the  person  giving  this  money  to 
Yorkburg  there  is  no  one  of  them  that  will  not  be 
answered  readily,  as  they  should  be  rightly.  Whether 
we  are  entitled  to  peculiarities  or  not,  all  of  us 
possess  them,  and  one  of  this  friend  of  Yorkburg's 
is  that  the  gift  and  the  giver  should  not  be  asso 
ciated  together;  therefore,  the  name  of  this  friend  will 
not  be  known.  Another  characteristic  of  this  same 
person  is  that  before  a  place  can  be  properly  beau 
tiful  it  should  be  made  sound  and  solid  and  healthy. 
The  foundation  must  come  first,  and  the  foundation 
of  any  town  which  would  have  a  future  is  to  know 
what  it  is  about  and  what  it  is  working  toward. 
Yorkburg  is  badly  laid  out.  It  isn't  laid  out  at  all, 
and  many  of  its  streets  start  and  end  as  they  please. 
An  elemental  need  of  Yorkburg  is  that  it  should  be 
laid  out  anew,  and  by  a  competent  civil  engineer 
who  knows  what  he  is  about.  This  engineer  will  be 
'provided  when  you  agree  to  use  his  services.  Mr. 
Brickhouse  says  we  have  a  precious  past.  That  is 
true,  but  a  precious  past  doesn't  make  good  walking, 
5  55 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

and,  not  being  dead,  our  feet  have  some  rights. 
There  is  no  string  tied  to  this  gift  of  fifty  thousand 
dollars  save  the  restriction  that  the  money  be  ex 
pended  for  the  purposes  mentioned. 

"You  see" — she  turned  to  the  councilmen  in  front 
and  nodded  to  them — "when  the  matters  brought 
before  you  to-night  were  mentioned  to  Mr.  Brick- 
house  he  was  not  interested,  and  did  not  care  to  put 
his  name  to  the  list  of  taxpayers  who  are  willing 
to  increase  their  taxes  in  order  that  Yorkburg  may 
get  a  new  bonnet  and  gloves  and  good  stout  shoes 
for  its  feet.  He  thinks  they  are  not  needed,  and  in 
stead  of  expenditure,  economy  should  be  your  key 
note."  She  shook  her  head.  "There  are  times 
when  too  much  economy  is  as  ruinous  as  too  great 
expenditure.  Some  women  die  from  it  every  year. 

"  But  before  coming  here  to-night  I  did  try  to  un 
derstand  what  I  was  about."  She  tucked  a  curl 
which  had  slipped  from  under  her  hat  back  in  place. 
"I  learned  from  your  mayor  that  the  town  is  finan 
cially  able  to  do  what  it  is  asked  to  do.  We  need 
two  new  school-buildings — one  for  primary  and 
grammar  grades,  one  for  a  high-school.  The  in 
crease  of  taxes  is  needed  to  pay  the  interest  on  the 
new  bonds,  needed  for  many  more  things  than  it  will 
supply." 

For  a  half  moment  she  looked  around  the  room, 
then  again  turned  to  the  men  immediately  in  front, 
and  her  hands  made  a  swift,  appealing  gesture. 

56 


IN    WHICH   MARY   GARY   SPEAKS 

"Gentlemen,  you  have  done  so  splendidly.  For  so 
long  there  was  so  little  to  do  with.  For  many  years 
the  struggle  for  life  and  honor  gave  your  fathers 
no  time  for  thought  of  other  things,  but  they  held 
their  heads  up  through  it  all,  and  you — you  are  your 
fathers'  sons!  In  the  years  I  have  been  away  I  never 
saw  anything  beautiful  or  useful  or  splendid,  never 
saw  good  streets,  schools,  libraries,  churches,  parks, 
playgrounds,  galleries,  museums,  baths,  kinder 
gartens,  never  saw  a  good  idea  in  operation,  or  any 
thing  that  made  life  nicer  and  better  that  I  didn't 
wish  Yorkburg  had  it.  I  was  always  wishing  it 
could  be  the  cleanest,  prettiest,  happiest  of  all  places 
on  this  earth  to  live  in,  and  when  I  came  back  and 
saw  what  you  had  done,  saw  there  was  good  water, 
good  sewerage,  good  lights,  a  few  good  streets,  I  was 
as  proud  and  pleased  as  if — as  if  I'd  been  your 
mother!" 

She  joined  in  the  laugh  that  followed,  then  shook 
her  head.  "But,  gentlemen,  people  who  don't  do 
anything  keep  at  it.  A  big  idea  means  big  things, 
and  if  everybody  pulls  together  we  can  do  lots  for 
Yorkburg.  And  you  don't  really  love  what  you  don't 
work  for,  don't  deny  yourself  a  little  bit  for,  don't 
take  some  risk  with.  Some  say  there's  risk  in  mar 
riage,  but  people  get  married.  They  want  to.  We 
can  do  anything  for  Yorkburg  we  want  to  if  we  just 
want  hard  enough.  Everybody  agrees  that  we  need 
a  high-school  and  a  new  grammar  school.  We've 

57 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

needed  them  for  years,  and  there  were  few  people 
who  pay  taxes  who  didn't  sign  this  petition  readily. 
Nearly  everybody  wants  children  to  have  a  chance." 

"Did  the  biggest  taxpayer  in  Yorkburg  sign  it?" 
It  was  Mr.  Billisoly  who  asked  the  question. 

"Who  is  that?"" 

"  Mr.  John  Maxwell,  owner  of  the  Yorkburg  shoe 
factory,  ice  factory,  electric-light  plant ;  owner  of 
more  than  any  one  man  in  town,  if  he  don't  live 
here." 

Mary  Gary  took  up  her  end  of  the  paper  and 
examined  it.  "His  name  is  the  first  on  the  list. 
Next  is  Mr.  Moon,  then  Mr.  Walstein,  Mr.  Ash, 
Mr.  Wilson,  Mr.—" 

"Is  Miss  Gibbie  Gault's  name  there  ?" 

"It  is." 

"Wonder!"  Mr.  Billisoly  blew  his  nose  and 
turned  to  the  man  at  his  side.  "Looks  like  she's  got 
it  all  there.  If  she  could  land  Miss  Gibbie  the  rest 
were  easy." 

"Tell  me  she  and  Miss  Gary  are  great  friends. 
They  say  the  old  lady  is  as  smart  as  the  devil  and 
he'd  be  much  more  apt  to  get  out  of  her  way  than  she 
out  of  his  if  they  met.  Listen,  there  goes  Sunny 
Chinn.  Ain't  he  a  cheerful  thing  to  look  at  ?" 

The  latter  had  risen,  and  again  the  table  was 
struck  by  the  gavel,  which  through  the  evening  his 
hand  had  not  relinquished.  "Are  there  any  further 
remarks  to  be  made  ?  If  not — " 

58 


IN   WHICH   MARY   GARY   SPEAKS 

"Yes,  sir."  Mr.  Ranlet,  owner  and  proprietor  of 
the  Yorkburg  bakery,  rose  from  his  seat.  "I'd  like 
to  ask  something  about  this  firm  of  Bartlett,  Cramp 
&  Company,  who  is  willing  to  buy  bonds  that  only 
pay  3  per  cent.  How  does  Miss  Gary  know  that  ?" 

"I  have  a  letter  to  that  effect."  She  opened  her 
bag  and  took  from  it  a  letter.  "This,"  she  said, 
holding  it  up,  "is  the  letter  which  states  that  they 
will  make  this  purchase  for  a  customer,  provided  it 
can  be  done  promptly.  Mr.  Moon,  Mr.  Walstein, 
any  one  doing  business  in  New  York  can  tell  you  the 
character  and  reputation  of  this  company." 

"I  suppose  the  name  of  the  customer  is  not 
mentioned  ?" 

"Yes.     It  is  a  Mr.  Black,  of  Brooklyn." 

"The  same  one  who  has  been  buying  property 
around  here  lately  ?" 

"The  same  one.  I  understand  he  is  thinking  of 
coming  here  to  live." 

"  Must  have  plenty  of  money.  Not  many  people 
jump  at  3-per-cent.  town  bonds." 

"Then  we  ought  to  jump  quick  lest  he  change  his 
mind." 

"  I  move  the  matter  be  referred  to  the  finance  com 
mittee."  It  was  Mr.  Mowry  who  spoke,  and  in 
stantly  Mr.  Ash,  who  had  said  nothing  so  far,  was 
on  his  feet. 

"Mr.  President,  such  reference  would  be  a  waste 
of  time.  As  chairman  of  the  finance  committee  I 

59 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

have  called  the  latter  together  and  talked  with  them 
concerning  this  proposition  of  an  issue  of  bonds 
which  I  knew  would  be  brought  before  you  to-night. 
We  agreed  to  recommend  it  heartily,  and  I  move  that 
the  question  be  put  at  once." 

The  motion,  made  and  carried  quickly,  was  greet 
ed  with  deafening  applause  by  the  visitors  sitting, 
standing,  or  balanced  in  the  window-seats,  and  then 
some  one  moved  for  an  executive  session,  and  slowly 
the  crowd  began  to  stir  and  go  out. 

"It's  going  to  be  all  right,  Mary."  Mr.  Moon 
patted  the  latter's  hands  encouragingly.  "We  are 
going  to  increase  the  taxes,  accept  the  money,  and 
build  the  schools,  and  if  you  will  please  take  Mrs. 
Moon  home  I  will  be  obliged.  Her  face  has  been  like 
a  beet  all  the  evening.  Oh,  how  do  you  do,  Mrs. 
McDougal  ?"  and  he  shook  kindly  the  rough  red 
hand  held  out  toward  him. 

"And  I'm  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Moon.  I  tell  you 
this  has  been  a  night,  ain't  it  ?  I've  had  a  fine  time, 
though  I'd  had  a  finer  if  an  edjucatid  tongue  was  in 
my  mouth,  and  I  could  have  mentioned  some  of  the 
things  I  know  of  as  Yorkburg  needs.  What  we  goin' 
home  for,  being  you  ain't  through,  they  say  ?  I  hope 
you  will  tell  those  men  who  are  to  act  on  something 
that  if  they  don't  act  right  they'll  never  get  a  vote 
from  my  boys  when  they  turn  twenty-one.  I  ain't 
sayin'  I  understood  all  what  Miss  Gary  said  to-night 
about  bonds  and  things,  but  I'd  follow  her  in  the 

60 


IN   WHICH   MARY   GARY   SPEAKS 

dark,  and  ain't  anybody  such  a  fool  as  not  to  know 
what  fifty  thousand  dollars  could  do  for  a  place  or 
a  person.  Of  course,  being  just  a  woman — and  men 
think  women  is  just  canary  birds  or  dray  horses — I 
don't  have  no  say  in  things  like  this,  but  I've  borned 
five  sayers,  and  I'm  goin'  to  keep  my  eye  on  'em  to 
see  what  they  do  when  they  get  a  chance.  Yes,  sir, 
there's  to  be  a  knowin'  why  if  she  don't  get  what  she 
wants.  In  the  four  factories  there's  two  hundred  and 
ninety-three  voters,  John  Armitage  says,  and  they're 
solid  to  a  man  for  Miss  Gary.  Just  tell  'em  that  for 
me,  will  you  ?  Good-night.  Come  on,  children ! 
I  wonder  where  McDougal  is  ?  A  dead  chicken's 
got  more  spirit  in  company  than  he  has!  Good 
night,  Miss  Gary,  and  don't  forget  we're  expectin'  of 
you  to  tea  to-morrow  night.  Peggy  ain't  slept  for  a 
week  thinkin'  about  it." 

At  the  door  a  group  of  men  stood  talking.  "  Reg 
ular  hunks,  weren't  they  ?"  said  Mr.  Jernigan,  taking 
his  pipe  out  of  his  pocket  and  knocking  the  bowl 
against  the  palm  of  his  hand.  "And  she  didn't 
waste  words  in  throwing  them  out,  either.  Fifty 
thousand  dollars  in  bonds  asked  for  as  cool  as  snow, 
and  looking  like  a  blush-rose  when  she  did  it.  Fifty 
thousand  dollars,  too,  handed  out  for  a  gift  like  'twas 
s  an  every-day  thing  for  Yorkburg  to  get  it.  She  said 
she  had  a  surprise  for  us.  'Twas  a  cracker-jack. 
Wish  one  of  that  kind  would  knock  me  in  the  head! 
Taxes  increased  from  #1.25  to  #1.35!  George,  it  does 

61 


you  good  to  hear  the  stuff  called  for  like  that.  Them 
that's  got  it  ought  to  pay  for  having!" 

"But  she  believes  in  everybody  paying.  Don't 
you  remember  the  day  she  come  down  to  the  mills 
at  lunch-time  and  told  us  we  oughtn't  to  ask  for  a 
reading-room  where  books  from  the  library  up  on 
King  Street  could  be  got  without  our  goin'  for  'em, 
unless  we  were  willin'  to  help  pay  for  the  keep  of  the 
room  ?  Don't  you  remember  ?  I  do."  And  Mr. 
Flournoy  took  the  match  held  out  by  Mr.  Jernigan 
and  passed  it  on  to  the  man  standing  next. 

"Yes,  I  remember.  She  made  us  all  chip  in. 
Right,  too.  It  costs  forty  dollars  a  month  to  run 
that  room,  and  we  don't  pay  but  twenty.  Don't 
know  where  the  other  twenty  comes  from,  but  she 
does,  and  that  goes  in  mill-town." 

"She's  got  a  clear  head,  Miss  Gary  has.  And  the 
reason  I  like  to  hear  her  talk  is  I  can  hook  on  to  what 
she  says."  Mr.  Flournoy  walked  over  to  the  window 
and  measured  the  distance  to  a  given  spot  below  with 
his  lips.  "No  beatin'  round  to  keep  you  from 
knowin'  what  she  means.  What  kind  of  slush  was 
that  Bailly  Ass  Brickhouse  tryin'  to  get  off,  anyhow  ? 
Any  of  you  catch  on  ? 

"Didn't  listen.  Heard  his  junk  before.  He  says 
he  traces  himself  back  to  Adam  in  this  town,  but  if 
he  ever  give  it  as  much  as  a  ginger-cake  it's  been 
kept  a  secret.  Here  comes  Miss  Gary  now." 

Mr.  Jernigan  took  off  his  hat,  and  on  his  finger 

62 


IN   WHICH   MARY   GARY   SPEAKS 

twirled  it  round  and  round.  "My  wife's  been  sick 
in  bed  ten  weeks  come  Friday,"  he  said,  presently, 
"and  there  ain't  been  a  one  of  'em  Miss  Gary  hasn't 
been  to  bring  her  some  outdoor  thing,  as  well  as 
other  kinds.  Mollie  says  when  she  comes  in  the 
room,  spring  things  come  with  her." 

He  stood  aside,  then  took  the  hand  held  out  as  she 
came  toward  him. 

"Didn't  we  have  a  grand  meeting?"  she  said, 
nodding  lightly  to  first  one  and  then  the  other.  "I 
believe  it's  going  to  be  all  right,  and  you  can  tell  your 
wives  their  children  will  go  to  a  high-school  yet. 
I'm  so  glad  all  you  men  came.  Thank  you  very 
much — " 

"You  didn't  need  us."  The  man  standing  next 
to  the  steps  laughed.  "The  work  was  done  before 
to-night.  You  had  your  ducks  in  a  row  all  right." 

"And  not  a  single  one  quacked  wrong!  Didn't 
they  do  beautifully  ?  Thank  everybody  for  coming. 
Good-night."  And  in  the  darkness  they  could  hear 
her  laughing  with  Mrs.  Moon  and  Mrs.  Corbin  as 
they  went  together  down  the  street. 

A  few  minutes  later  in  Miss  Gibbie's  library  she 
was  dancing  that  lady  of  full  figure  round  and  round 
the  room,  and  not  for  some  seconds  would  she  stop. 

"Oh,  Miss  Gibbie,  if  you'd  just  been  there!  Not 
a  sign  of  fight  from  any  one,  and  as  to  fireworks, 
there  wasn't  a  pop-cracker!  Mr.  Benny  Brickhouse 
orated,  of  course,  and  Mrs.  McDougal  was  irrepres- 

63 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

sible,  but  without  them  it  would  have  been  solemn — 
solemn!  I  tried  not  to  talk  too  much.  Men  don't 
like  it;  they  like  women  to  listen  to  them,  but  to-night 
they—" 

"Like  sheep  before  their  shearer,  were  dumb — as 
I'll  be  dead  if  you  don't  sit  down.  Sit  down!" 

"I  can't."  And  Miss  Gibbie  was  waltzed  around 
once  more.  "I  don't  understand,  but  it's  going  to 
be  all  right.  Men  are  certainly  funny.  For  weeks 
every  member  of  the  council  has  pooh-hooded  me, 
thought  my  audaciousness  was  outrageousness,  shook 
their  heads  and  waved  me  out,  and  didn't  begin  to 
listen  seriously  until  a  week  ago.  To-night  they  were 
little  lambs!" 

"If  you'll  stop  butting  round  like  a  goat  and  go  to 
bed  I'll  hear  about  these  lambkins  to-morrow.  I  sat 
up  to  tell  you  good-night,  not  to  hear  you  talk.  It's 
nearly  twelve  o'clock.  Of  course  they  came  round! 
Wind-watchers,  all  of  them!  That  3  per  cent,  got 
them.  I  told  you  if  you  made  it  4  it  wouldn't  go 
through." 

"Some  one  wanted  to  know  who  Mr.  Black  was, 
and  Mr.  Billisoly  asked  if  your  name  was  on  the  tax 
payers'  petition.  It's  like  a  play  with  the  principal 
character  left  out.  Suppose — 

"Suppose  nothing!  Go  to  bed  and  go  to  sleep! 
Your  eyes  are  as  big  as  saucers,  blue  saucers  at  that. 
I  don't  want  to  hear  another  word,"  and  with  a  kiss 
as  quick  as  the  look  that  swept  the  flushed  face 

64 


IN   WHICH  MARY  GARY  SPEAKS 

was  scrutinizing,  Miss  Gibbie  waved  her  to  the 
door. 

"  But  aren't  you  coming  ?  It's  nearly  twelve 
o'clock!" 

"  And  why  do  I  live  alone  save  to  do  as  I  please  ? 
No,  I'm  not  coming.  Go  to  bed!" 

At  the  door,  hand  on  knob,  Mary  Gary  turned. 
"How  did  Mr.  Milligan  know  about  my  English 
grandfather  ?  Who  told  him  he  was  a  chief  justice  ?" 

"I  did.  And  for  good  reasons.  I  don't  tell  my 
reasons.  Go  to  bed!" 

"When  did  you  tell  him?" 

"This  morning  after  I  left  you.  Are  you  going  to 
bed  ?" 

"  I  don't  see  what  you  told  him  for.  I  don't  like 
my  grandfathers.  I  can't  imagine — " 

"There  are  many  things  you  can't  imagine,  and 
more  you  don't  understand.  Go  to  bed!" 

In  her  room  Mary  Gary  stood  before  the  tall,  old- 
fashioned  bureau,  with  its  small  swinging  glass,  and 
brushed  her  hair  mechanically  and  with  thoughts 
afar  off;  then  putting  down  her  brush  laid  it  on  a 
letter  she  had  not  seen  before. 

"Why,  it's  John's!"  she  said.  "I  wonder  how  it 
got  here  ?"  She  held  it  up,  then  put  it  back  again. 
"  It  must  have  come  on  the  last  mail  and  Hedwig 
brought  it  in.  Silly!" 

She  braided  her  hair  slowly,  tied  on  its  ribbons, 
then  knelt  by  the  big  tester  bed  to  say  her  prayers, 

65 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

Her  face  rested  sideways  on  the  open  palms  of  her 
hands,  crossed  one  on  the  other,  and  her  eyes  closed 
sleepily. 

"  I'm  too  tired  to  read  it  to-night,  and  to-morrow  I 
will  be  too  busy.  But  I'm  glad  it's  here.  In  case 
of  trouble — or  anything,  John  is  such — a  sure  help." 


VI 


T 


MIDNIGHT 

HE  heat  was  oppressive.  Miss  Gibbie 
turned  off  all  lights  save  the  one  on  the 
candle-stand  by  the  high  mahogany  bed, 
with  its  valance  of  white  pique,  drew  the 
large  wing  chair  close  to  the  open  window 
and  sat  down  in  it.  Over  her  gown  she 
had  put  on  a  mandarin  coat  bought  somewhere  in 
China,  and  on  her  feet  were  the  slippers  embroidered 
for  her  by  a  Japanese  girl  she  had  sent  to  a  hospital 
in  Nagasaki. 

The  moon,  coming  out  of  its  hiding  place,  for  a 
moment  poised  clear  and  cool  in  a  trough  of  gray 
banked  by  curling  clouds  of  black,  sent  a  thread  of 
pale  light  upon  the  golden  dragons  on  the  coat, 
flashed  on  the  slippers,  and  was  lost  in  the  darkness 
under  which  it  darted.  Miss  Gibbie,  watching, 
nodded  toward  it,  and  tapped  the  stool  on  which  her 
feet  rested  with  the  tip  of  her  toes. 

"The  moon  is  like  one's  self,"  she  said.  "Go 
where  you  will  you  can't  get  rid  of  it.  Spooky  thing, 
a  moon.  One  big  eye.  Don't  like  it!" 

67 


She  lay  back  in  her  chair  and  rested  her  hands  on 
its  arms.  From  the  garden  below  the  night  wind 
brought  soft  fragrance  of  lilacs  and  crepe -myr 
tle,  of  bleeding  -  heart  and  wall  -  flower,  of  cow 
slips  and  candy -tuft,  and  as  they  blew  in  and 
out,  like  the  touch  of  unseen  hands,  they  stirred 
old  memories  —  made  that  which  was  dead,  alive 
again. 

"You're  a  fool,  Gibbie  Gault — a  fool!  You  are 
too  old  to  care  as  you  care;  too  old  to  take  up  what 
you've  turned  your  back  on  all  these  years.  You  are 
too  old — too  old!" 

Suddenly  she  sat  up.  "Too  old,  am  I  ?  I'll  see 
about  that!  The  tail  end  of  anything  isn't  its  valu 
able  part,  and  of  a  life  it's  usually  useless,  but  it  is  all 
I  have  left,  and  I'll  be  jammed  if  I  don't  do  some 
thing  with  it.  And  were  I  a  man  I  wouldn't  say  I'll 
be  jammed.  Men  have  so  many  advantages  over 
women !" 

Again  she  leaned  back  in  her  chair  and  tapped  its 
arms  with  her  long,  slender  fingers.  "I  wonder  how 
long  I  have  to  live.  One — five — ten  years  ?  What 
puppets  we  humans  are — what  puppets!  Born 
without  permission,  dying  when  it  is  neither  pleasant 
nor  convenient,  we  are  made  to  march  or  crawl 
through  life  on  the  edge  of  a  precipice  from  which  at 
any  moment  we  may  be  knocked  over.  And  we're 
told  we  should  believe  the  experience  is  a  privilege!" 
Both  hands  were  lifted.  "A  privilege!  Mary  thinks 

68 


MIDNIGHT 

it  is,  thinks  parts  of  it  very  pleasant,  but  Mary  never 
saw  a  field  in  which  she  didn't  find  a  four-leaf  clover, 
and  I  never  saw  one  in  which  I  did.  'Look  for  it/ 
she  tells  me."  She  shook  her  head.  e'  It  isn't  that. 
The  pitiful  part  of  life  is  when  one  cares  so  little  for 
what  life  gives!'* 

The  tips  of  her  fingers  were  brought  together,  then 
opened  and  shut  mechanically.  "  And  once  I  cared 
so  much!  Who  doesn't  care  when  they  are  young 
and  wonderful  things  are  ahead  ?  Who  doesn't  care  ? 
And  now  to  be  caring  again  after  the  long,  long,  use 
less  years!  To  be  caring  again!" 

She  closed  her  eyes  and  smiled  a  queer,  twisted 
little  smile.  "It's  got  me!"  she  said.  "Old  or  not, 
it's  got  me!  And  it's  a  poor  life  that  it  doesn't  get! 
But  who  would  have  thought  at  your  age,  Gibbie 
Gault,  you  would  let  another  life  do  with  yours  what 
it  will  ?  And  that's  what  you  are  doing;  you  are 
letting  Mary  Gary  do  with  you  what  she  will!  Well, 
suppose  I  am  ?"  The  keen  gray  eyes  opened  with 
a  snap,  and  without  warning  stinging  tears  sprang  in 
them.  "  Suppose  I  am  r  I've  been  a  selfish  old  fool 
and  shut  out  the  only  thing  worth  the  having  in  life, 
and  do  you  think  now  it's  given  me  I  am  going  to 
turn  my  back  on  it  ?  In  all  this  big  world  she  is  the 
only  person  who  really  loves  me — the  only  one  I 
really  love.  And  do  you  think  ?" — she  nodded 
fiercely  as  if  to  some  one  before  her,  then  crumpled 
in  a  sudden  heap  in  her  chair.  "Oh,  God,  don't 

69 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

let  her  go  out  of  my  life!  I'm  an  old  woman  and 
she's  all  I've  got!  All  I've  got!" 

For  some  moments  she  lay  still,  then  reached  out 
for  her  handkerchief.  "What  a  variety  of  fools  one 
female  can  be!  Sit  up  and  behave  yourself,  Gibbie 
Gault!  You  came  near  making  a  bargain  with  the 
Lord  then,  and  if  there's  one  thing  more  than  an 
other  that  must  be  hard  for  Him  to  have  patience 
with  it's  a  person  who  tries  to  make  a  deal  with  Him. 
'Prosper  me  and  I'll  pay  you'  is  the  prayer  of  many. 
'Keep  evil  from  me;  hold  death  back;  take  care  of 
me,  and  I'll  build  a  new  church,  send  out  a  missionary, 
give  my  tenth  and  over!  Don't  hurt  me,  and  I'll  be 
good!'  Who  doesn't  pray  like  that  some  time  or 
other  in  life  ?  Well,  you  came  near  doing  it  your 
self.  Propitiation  is  an  instinct,  and  money  is  all 
some  have  to  offer  as  a  bribe.  To  love  mercy, 
to  deal  justly,  and  to  walk  humbly  with  one's  Maker 
are  terms  too  hard  for  most  of  us.  Much  easier  to 
dope  one's  conscience  with  money.  It's  the  only 
thing  I've  got,  money  is,  and  there  have  been  times 
when  I'd  have  given  its  every  dollar  for  the  thing  it 
couldn't  get.  I  came  near  mentioning  it  just  now!" 

She  wiped  her  eyes  resentingly,  rubbed  her  cheeks 
none  too  gently,  then  opened  her  handkerchief  and 
smoothed  it  into  damp  folds. 

"Tears!  Who  would  believe  Gibbie  Gault  had  a 
tear  duct?"  She  shook  her  head.  "Gibbie  Gault 
has  everything  every  other  woman  has,  and  if  she 

70 


MIDNIGHT 

chooses  to  hide  a  hungry  heart  under  a  sharp  tongue 
whose  business  is  it  ?  People  may  talk  about  her  as 
much  as  they  please,  but  they  sha'n't  feel  sorry  for 
her!"  She  threw  her  handkerchief  on  the  table. 
"What  idiots  we  are  to  go  masquerading  through 
life!  All  playing  a  part  —  all!  Pretending  not  to 
care  when  we  do  care.  Pretending  we  do  when  we 
don't.  What  a  shabby  little  sham  most  of  this  thing 
called  life  is!  What  a  shabby  little  sham!" 

She  changed  her  position,  recrossed  her  feet  and 
folded  her  arms.  "If  Mary  were  here  she  would  say 
I  needed  a  pill.  Perhaps  I  need  two,  but  not  the 
pink  ones  already  prepared.  Everybody  has  a  pill 
that's  hard  to  swallow.  My  pill  might  go  down 
easily  with  some,  and  over  theirs  I  might  not  blink, 
but —  Well,  a  pill  is  a  pill;  facts  are  facts,  and 
old  age  is  old  age.  The  thing  is  to  face  what  is, 
shake  your  fist  at  it  if  necessary,  but  never  meet  it,  if 
disagreeable,  half-way.  I  never  meet  anything  half 
way.  But  it's  a  cruel  trick  time  plays  on  us,  this 
making  of  body  and  brain  a  withered,  wrinkled  thing, 
whimpering  for  warmth  and  food  and  sleep,  and 
babbling  of  the  past.  It's  a  cruel  trick!" 

Out  on  the  still  air  the  clock  in  St.  John's  church 

steeple  struck  twelve  strokes  with  clear  deliberation. 

From  the  hall  below  they  were  repeated,  and  from 

'the  mantel  behind  her  the  hour  chimed  softly.     She 

closed  her  eyes.     "Twelve  o'clock!     Time  for  ladies 

of  my  age  to  be  in  bed.     Not  going  to  bed!    And  my 

6  71 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

age  hasn't  yet  reached  the  babbling-of-the-past  stage. 
It  will  never  reach  that,  Gibbie.  Never!" 

Was  it  a  hundred  or  a  thousand  years  ago  that  she 
used  to  sit  on  this  same  stool  at  her  father's  knees  and 
recite  Latin  verbs  to  him,  and  as  reward  have  him 
read  her  tales  of  breathless  adventure  and  impossible 
happenings,  all  the  more  delicious  because  forbidden 
by  her  prosaic  mother  ?  She  was  seven  when  her 
mother  died,  but  she  barely  remembered  her,  and  had 
she  lived  they  would  hardly  have  been  great  friends. 
Her  mother's  pride  was  in  pickles  and  preserves  and 
brandy  peaches;  in  parties  where  the  table  groaned, 
the  servants  also,  and  in  the  looking  well  after  the 
ways  of  her  household.  But  of  a  child's  heart  and 
imagination  she  knew  little.  She  was  a  true  woman, 
but  a  housekeeper  had  taken  her  place,  and  neither 
her  father  nor  herself  had  been  seriously  affected  by 
her  death. 

And  what  splendid  comrades  she  and  her  father 
were  after  her  mother  left  them!  He  would  let  no 
one  teach  her  but  himself,  and  how  he  loved  to  show 
her  off  to  his  friends,  putting  her  on  top  of  the  dining- 
room  table  and  making  her  recite  in  Latin  bits  from 
an  ode  of  Horace,  in  French  a  fable  of  La  Fontaine's, 
in  English  a  sonnet  of  Shelley  or  extracts  from  Shakes 
peare's  plays,  and  then  letting  her  dance  the  heel-and- 
toe  shuffle  taught  her  secretly  by  the  darkies  on  the 
place.  What  a  selfish  little  pig  she  had  been  allowed 
to  be!  How  selfish  both  of  them  had  been !  Their 

72 


MIDNIGHT 

books  a  passion,  travel  their  delight,  most  people 
but  persons  who  bored  or  bothered,  they  had  lived 
largely  apart,  come  and  gone  as  they  chose,  cared 
little  for  what  others  said  or  thought;  and  yet  when 
the  war  came  they  were  back,  passionate  defenders  of 
their  cause,  and  in  their  hearts  hot  hate  for  those  who 
sought  to  crush  it. 

And  then  it  was  pride  measured  its  lance  with  love, 
and  won.  The  awakening  of  her  womanhood  and 
the  mockery  of  life  had  come  together,  hand  in  hand, 
and  henceforth  she  was  another  creature. 

In  her  chair  Miss  Gibbie  shivered.  It  was  not  the 
sudden  gust  of  wind  that  caused  the  sudden  chill,  but 
the  scent  of  the  micrafella  roses  just  under  the  win 
dow  which  the  wind  had  brought;  and  her  arms, 
interlocked,  were  pressed  closer  to  her  breast. 
"Gibbie  Gault,  what  a  fool  you  are!"  she  said,  under 
her  breath.  "But  how  much  bigger  a  fool  you  were 
nearly  fifty  years  ago!" 

Seventeen.  Young,  vivid,  brilliant,  beautiful. 
Yes,  beautiful!  Nothing  is  so  beautiful  as  youth, 
and  she  had  much  more  than  youth.  The  gods  had 
been  good  to  her  up  to  then,  and  then  they  taunted 
her,  made  spring  in  her  heart  love  for  one  only — 
love  that  must  be  crushed  and  killed,  for  the  man 
,  who  alone  could  inspire  it  wore  the  hated  blue,  was 
there  to  fight  against  her  people,  and  never  must  she 
marry  him,  she  told  herself.  On  a  visit  North  she 
had  met  him,  and  it  was  a  whim  of  fate  that  he 

73 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

should  be  captain  of  one  of  the  companies  taking 
possession  of  Yorkburg,  with  headquarters  in  the 
Roy  house,  next  to  her  own.  A  whim  of  fate! 
Friend  and  foe  they  met  daily,  and  battle  was  never 
waged  more  hotly  than  was  theirs.  On  his  part,  de 
termination  that  never  yields.  On  hers,  pride  that 
never  surrenders.  And  then  one  day  there  was  a 
change  of  orders.  His  regiment  was  sent  away  and 
to  battle.  Lest  the  horror,  the  terror  of  it  all  undo 
her,  she  had  bid  him  go,  refused  to  promise  in  the 
years  to  come  she  would  ever  be  his  wife,  and  the 
look  on  his  fine,  brave  face  had  followed  her  through 
life. 

A  month  later  he  was  brought  back  and  by  her 
order  to  her  house.  Fatally  wounded,  in  delirium 
her  name  was  ever  on  his  lips,  but  in  his  eyes  blank- 
ness.  And  on  her  knees  by  his  bed  she  had  twisted 
in  an  agony  of  prayer  that  for  one  moment,  but  one 
moment,  light  might  come  into  them  that  she  might 
pray  for  pardon  ere  he  died.  But  no  light  came  and 
he  died,  not  knowing  that  for  her  love,  too,  was  dead. 

Again  Miss  Gibbie  stirred,  for  again  she  seemed  to 
see  herself.  This  time  she  was  by  an  open  grave. 
White,  rigid,  erect,  she  watched  with  tearless  eyes 
the  lowering,  not  of  a  mere  body  in  the  ground,  but 
the  burying  of  all  youth  has  the  right  to  ask  of  life. 
Out  of  the  future  were  gone  for  her  the  dreams  of 
girlhood  and  a  woman's  hopes.  The  bareness  and 
emptiness  of  coming  years  froze  the  blood  in  her 

74 


MIDNIGHT 

heart,  and  when  she  turned  away  she  lifted  her  head 
and  bid  life  do  its  worst.  Nothing  could  matter 
now. 

Darker  than  the  days  of  battle  were  the  days  of 
peace,  and  she  made  her  father  close  the  house  and 
go  away.  For  years  they  wandered  where  they 
would,  but  always  were  back  for  the  month  of  June; 
and  no  one  remembered  that  the  twenty-first  was  the 
date  of  Colleen  McMasters's  death,  or  knew  that  on 
that  day  his  grave  was  visited,  and  there  alone  a 
woman  yielded  to  the  memories  that  ever  filled  her 
heart. 

When  her  father  died  life  in  Yorkburg  was  im 
possible.  With  a  tilt  of  her  chin  at  its  dulness,  a 
wave  of  her  hand  at  its  narrowness,  and  eyes  closed 
to  its  happy  content,  she  had  gone  back  to  London 
and  re-opened  the  house  which  had  become  known 
for  her  sharp  wit,  her  freedom  of  speech,  and  her  dis 
regard  of  persons  who  had  for  commendation  but  in 
herited  position;  and  there  for  years  had  what  she 
called  headquarters,  but  never  thought  of  or  spoke  of 
as  home. 

She  pulled  her  chair  closer  to  the  window  and,  with 
elbows  on  its  sill  and  chin  on  her  crossed  hands, 
looked  out  into  the  soft  silence  of  the  night. 
1  "What  a  time  for  seeing  clearly,  seeing  things  just 
as  they  are,  this  midnight  is,  Gibbie  Gault!  In  the 
darkness  wasted  time  stares  you  in  the  face  and  facts 
refuse  to  turn  their  backs.  And  you  thought  once 

75 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

the  waste  was  all  the  other  way — thought  you  were 
wise  to  stand  off  and  watch  the  little  comedies  and 
tragedies,  the  pitiful  strivings  for  place  and  power, 
the  sordid  struggles  for  bread  and  meat,  the  stupid 
ones  for  cap  and  bells!  The  motives  and  masques, 
the  small  deceptions  and  the  large  hypocrisies  of  life 
interested  you  immensely,  didn't  they  ?  Take  the 
truth  out  and  face  it.  You  tell  other  people  the 
truth — tell  it  to  yourself?  A  selfish  old  pig,  that's 
what  you  were,  and  thinking  yourself  clever  all  the 
while.  Clever!  And  why?  Because  all  your  life 
you  have  been  a  student  of  history,  of  human  hap 
penings,  and  of  man's  behavior  to  his  fellow-man,  and 
particularly  to  woman,  you  thought  you  knew  life, 
didn't  you  ?  You  didn't!  Because  you  were  an 
evolutionist  and  recognized  Nature's  disregard  of 
human  values,  the  impartial  manifestations  of  her 
laws,  and  the  reckoning  which  their  violation  de 
mands,  you  thought  science  must  satisfy.  Science 
doesn't  satisfy.  With  ignorance  and  superstition,  with 
life's  cruelties  and  injustice,  with  human  helplessness, 
you  could  quarrel  well,  but  beyond  the  sending  out 
of  checks  to  serve  as  a  soothing-syrup  to  your  en 
cumbrance  of  a  conscience  what  did  you  ever  do  to 
give  a  lift  to  anything?  Nothing!  And  the  pity  is 
there  are  many  like  you! 

"Cui-bono-itis/  That's  what  you  had,  Gibbie 
Gault — 'cui-bono-itis.'  Bad  thing!  Almost  as  hard 
on  the  people  about  you  as  the  '  ego-itis 9  of  to-day. 

76 


MIDNIGHT 

Pity  people  can't  die  of  their  own  diseases  instead  of 
killing  other  people  with  them.     Great  pity!" 

The  moon  was  gone.  Only  in  faint  lines  of  light 
was  the  blackness  of  the  sky  broken,  and  as  she 
looked  out  over  the  trees  in  the  garden  below,  and 
down  the  street,  asleep  and  still,  the  scene  changed, 
and  no  longer  was  she  in  Yorkburg,  but  in  the  little 
village  of  Chenonceaux,  at  the  Inn  of  Le  Bon  La- 
boureur.  Her  friend,  Miss  Rawley,  of  Edinborough, 
was  with  her.  They  were  taking  their  coffee  out 
doors  at  a  table  placed  where  they  could  best  get  the 
breeze  and  see  the  roses  climbing  over  the  lattice 
work  of  the  little  hotel,  with  its  pots  of  red  geraniums 
in  the  windows.  And  in  the  door  the  young  pro 
prietor  was  smiling  happily,  for  down  the  long, 
straight,  tree-lined  road  an  automobile  which  had 
just  left  the  chateau  was  coming,  and  he  had  visions 
of  what  it  would  mean. 

"I  didn't."  She  nodded  her  head.  "It's  a  way 
life  has,  this  bringing  of  somebody  across  our  path, 
this  taking  of  somebody  out  of  it,  as  incidentally  as  if 
we  were  flies.  Well,  that's  what  I  used  to  think  most 
of  us  were,  Flies!  Those  who  weren't  flies  were 
spiders.  Some  buzzed,  some  bit,  and  all  in  a  net — 
all?  And  to  think  of  the  way  I  was  taken  by  the 
'shoulders  and  turned  around!  Made  to  see  all  I'd 
been  doing  was  squinting  at  life  with  my  nose  turned 
up.  Just  that!  Because  I  had  seen  the  just  man 
perish  in  his  righteousness,  and  the  wicked  prosper 

77 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

in  his  wickedness,  I  thought,  with  my  ancient  friend, 
that  time  and  chance  happeneth  to  all,  and  people 
and  pigs  had  much  in  common.  What  an  old  fool 
you  were,  Gibbie  Gault!  Take  your  pill!  You  saw 
life  as  you  wanted  to  see  it,  and,  giving  nothing  to  it, 
got  nothing  out  of  it.  Right! 

"Queer  what  a  kiss  can  do  —  just  one!"  She 
drew  in  her  breath  and  felt  it  all  again.  The  au 
tomobile  had  stopped.  A  party  of  Americans  had 
gotten  out  and,  slowly  drinking  her  coffee,  she 
watched  them.  A  man  and  his  wife,  two  children, 
a  nurse,  and  a  young  girl,  twenty,  perhaps.  Some 
thing  about  her,  something  of  glow  and  vividness  and 
warmth,  held  her,  and  a  faint  memory  was  stirred. 
A  clear,  fresh  voice  called  to  the  chauffeur  as  she 
sprang  out  of  the  car  and  came  close  to  the  table 
near  which  she  was  sitting,  and  then  she  heard  her 
name  spoken  in  joyous  surprise. 

"It's  Miss  Gibbie  Gault!  Oh,  Aunt  Katherine,  it 
is  Miss  Gibbie  Gault!" 

Without  warning,  two  strong  young  arms  were 
thrown  around  her  neck  and  on  her  lips  a  hearty  kiss 
was  pressed.  "Oh,  Miss  Gibbie,  I'm  so  glad  to  see 
you!  I'm  so  glad!  I'm  Mary  Gary  who  used  to  live 
in  Yorkburg.  You  don't  mind  my  kissing  you,  do 
you  ?  I  couldn't  help  it,  I  really  couldn't!  It's  so 
good  to  see  some  one  from  Yorkburg!"  And  she 
was  hugged  again,  hugged  hard. 

"Nearly  three  years  ago!"  Her  lips  quivered,, 

78 


MIDNIGHT 

"And  a  different  world  youVe  been  living  in  since. 
Somebody  was  really  glad  to  see  you.  It  makes  a 
great  difference  in  life  when  some  one  is  glad  to  see 
you!" 

Was  it  fate,  chance,  circumstance  that  had  brought 
the  girl  to  her  ?  She  did  not  know.  Once  she  would 
have  said.  Maybe  God  needed  them  together,  was 
Mary's  view,  and  she  never  commented  on  Mary's 
views.  In  that  at  least  she  had  learned  to  hold  her 
tongue.  But  it  did  not  matter.  They  were  here  in 
Yorkburg,  lives  closely  interknit,  and  here,  in  the 
home  in  which  she  had  been  born,  she  was  to  live 
henceforth.  And  if  but  close  to  her  she  could  keep 
the  girl  who  had  warmed  her  heart  and  opened  her 
eyes  she  would  ask  nothing  more  of  life. 

For  two  years  and  more  they  had  been  together. 
Instantly  she  had  wanted  her,  and,  never  hesitating 
in  efforts  to  get  what  she  wanted,  a  month  after  the 
meeting  at  the  little  Inn  of  Le  Bon  Laboureur  she  in 
vited  her  to  be  her  guest  in  a  trip  around  the  world. 
The  invitation  was  blunt.  She  had  long  wanted  to 
take  this  trip,  had  long  been  looking  for  the  proper 
companion.  She  had  a  dog,  but  he  wasn't  allowed 
to  come  to  the  table.  Would  she  go  ?  Her  uncle 
and  aunt  would  not  let  her  miss  the  chance.  They 
made  her  go.  Doctor  Alden  and  his  wife  were  sen 
sible  people. 

And  then  the  night  in  Cairo  when  Mary  came  in 
her  room,  sat  on  the  stool  at  her  feet  and,  crossing 

79 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

her  arms  on  her  lap,  looked  up  in  her  face  and  said 
they  must  go  home.  The  holiday  had  been  long  and 
happy,  but  more  of  it  would  be  loss  of  time.  And 
home  was  Yorkburg.  A  visit  to  Michigan  first,  long 
talks  with  her  uncle  and  aunt,  and  then  whatever 
she  was  to  do  in  life  was  to  be  done  in  Yorkburg. 
There  was  a  little  money,  something  her  uncle  had 
invested  for  her  when  she  first  went  to  live  with  him, 
and  from  it  a  small  income  would  enable  her  to  live 
until  she  decided  on  some  sort  of  work.  She  would 
teach,  perhaps,  and  she  would  rather  it  would  be  in 
the  little  town  in  which  she  had  found  a  home  when 
homeless  and  without  a  friend.  She  was  not  willing 
to  live  with  anybody  or  anywhere  without  work. 
She  was  anxious  to  be  about  it.  When  could  they 
start  ? 

"And  of  course  I  started.  Started  just  when  she 
said.  Did  just  what  she  wanted  and  some  things  she 
didn't.  Trotted  on  back  to  the  old  pasture-land 
where  old  sheep  should  graze,  and  here  I  am  to  stay 
until  the  call  comes.  Whoever  thought  you'd  come 
back  to  Yorkburg,  Gibbie  Gault!  Back  to  shabby, 
sleepy,  satisfied  old  Yorkburg!  Well,  you're  here! 
Mary  Gary  made  you  come.  She  loves  it,  always 
wanting  to  do  something  for  it;  helping  every  broken- 
down  old  thing  in  it;  laughing  at  its  funny  ways,  and 
keeping  straight  along  in  hers.  And  for  what  ? 
To-morrow  everybody  will  be  talking  about  the  meet 
ing  to-night.  About  other  things  she's  doing.  Small 

80 


MIDNIGHT 

thanks  she'll  get,  and  if  you  tell  her  so  she'll  say  if 
you  do  things  for  thanks  you  don't  deserve  them. 
Bless  my  soul,  if  it  isn't  raining!" 

A  sudden  downpour  of  rain  startled  her,  and  she 
sat  upright;  then,  at  a  noise  behind,  turned  and  saw 
Mary  Gary  coming  in  the  door. 

"Oh,  Miss  Gibbie,  I  could  spank  you!  I  really 
could!  You  aren't  even  five  years  old  at  times. 
It  has  turned  almost  cold,  and  raining  hard,  and  here 
you  are  sitting  by  an  open  window!"  She  felt  the 
gown  of  the  older  woman  anxiously.  "  I  believe 
it's  damp.  If  you  don't  get  in  bed  I'm  going 
to—" 

"Do  what?"  Miss  Gibbie  got  out  of  her  chair, 
threw  off  the  mandarin  coat  with  its  golden  dragons, 
and  kicked  her  slippers  toward  the  door.  "What 
are  you  going  to  do  ?" 

"Put  you  in  it.  Get  in  and  let  me  cover  you  up! 
Are  you  sure  you  aren't  cold  ?  Sure  ?" 

"Sure."  Miss  Gibbie  mimicked  the  anxious  tones 
of  the  girl  now  bending  over  and  tucking  the  cover 
ing  round  her  warm  and  tight.  "What  did  you  come 
in  here  for,  anyhow  ?  Go  to  bed !" 

"I  knew  you'd  left  the  window  open,  and  it  has 
turned  so  cool.  I  was  afraid  there  was  too  much 
air."  She  stooped  over  and  kissed  her.  "Good 
night!  Don't  get  up  to  breakfast.  I'll  see  you  dur 
ing  the  day."  With  a  swift  movement  she  turned 
off  the  light  on  the  candle-stand  and  was  gone,  and 

81 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

under  the  covering  Miss  Gibbie  hid  her  face  in  the 
pillow. 

"Dear  God,"  she  said.  "Dear  God,  she's  all 
I've  got.  I'm  an  old  woman,  and  she's  all  I've 
got!" 


VII 


PEGGY 


UTHER  say,  please,  sir,  send  her  four 
eggs'  worth  of  salt  pork,  and  two  eggs' 
worth  of  pepper,  and  five  eggs'  worth  of 
molasses.  And  she  say  I  can  have  pickle 
with  the  last  egg." 

The  eyes  which  had  been  critically 
searching  the  pickle-jar  on  the  counter  as  the  eggs 
were  carefully  taken  out  of  a  basket  looked  con 
fidently  in  Mr.  Blick's  face,  and  a  red  little  tongue 
licked  two  red  lips  in  quivering  expectation  of  the 
salty  sourness  awaiting  them. 

"Please,  sir,  I'd  like  that  one."  A  dirty  little  fore 
finger  pointed  to  a  long,  fat  cucumber  lying  slightly 
apart  from  its  fellows.  "That's  the  one,  Mr.  Blick. 
No,  not  that  one — that  one!"  and  the  finger  was 
pressed  resolutely  against  the  jar.  "And  would  you 
please,  sir,  give  it  to  me  before  you  weigh  out  the 
,  things?" 

"Oh,  Peggy  dear,  what  a  little  pig  you  are!  The 
very  biggest  in  the  jar,  and  such  a  wicked-looking 
pickle,  Peggy!  Why  not  get  an  apple,  instead  ?" 

83 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

Peggy  turned  joyously  at  the  sound  of  the  voice 
behind  her.  "Oh,  Miss  Mary  Gary,  I'm  so  glad  it's 
you.  I  thought  it  was  Miss  Lizzie  Bettie  Pryor!" 

Mr.  Biick  laughed.  The  relief  in  Peggy's  voice 
was  so  unqualified  that  the  man,  standing  in  the  door 
watching  the  little  group,  laughed  also.  Miss  Gary 
turned  toward  him.  "This  is  Peggy,  John  —  my 
little  friend,  Peggy  McDougal.  Wipe  your  hands, 
Peggy,  and  speak  to  Mr.  Maxwell,  who  has  come  from 
New  York  to  see  Yorkburg,  and — and  the  places  he 
used  to  know." 

Peggy  wiped  her  hands  carefully  on  the  handker 
chief  held  out  to  her,  then  advanced  toward  the  man, 
still  standing  in  the  doorway,  but  now  with  his  hat 
in  his  hand. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mr.  John  Maxwell  from  New 
York  ?"  she  said,  gravely;  in  her  eyes  critical  inspec 
tion  of  the  face  before  her.  "I  know  about  you. 
Muther  says  you  used  to  live  in  Yorkburg,  but  your 
muther  didn't  like  it.  I  hope  you  like  it,  and  will 
stay  a  long  time  and  come  again.  Miss  Mary  Gary 
says  it's  nicer  than  New  York." 

John  Maxwell  took  the  offered  hand  as  ceremoni 
ously  as  it  was  given.  "  Thank  you !  I  do  like  York 
burg,  and  I  hope  to  come  again."  He  laughed 
amusedly  in  the  upturned  eyes  which  were  searching 
his.  "It  is  nicer  than  New  York.  Miss  Gary  is 
quite  right." 

"New  York's  bigger,  ain't  it?" 

84 


PEGGY 

"Yes" — hesitatingly — "some  bigger.  But  I  don't 
believe  there's  anything  there  like  you — " 

"  Plenty  more  here  like  me." 

"How  many?" 

"Hundreds,  I  reckon.  Yorkburg's  most  all  chil 
dren  and  old  maids,  muther  says.  We've  got  nine 
children — four  girls  and  five  boys.  The  last  one  was 
a  girl,  which  would  have  made  us  even,  but  it  died. 
Billy  give  it  a  piece  of  watermelon  rind  to  play  with 
and  it  et  it.  But,  Miss  Mary,  muther  did  say  I  could 
have  a  pickle,  she  did."  And  Peggy  turned  to  Miss 
Gary,  anxious  entreaty  in  her  eyes. 

"I  don't  want  an  apple — I  want  a  pickle.  And 
it  won't  make  me  sick.  There's  seven  of  us  to  have 
a  bite,  and  one  bite  wouldn't  give  anybody's  stomach 
a  pain.  Oh,  Miss  Mary,  you  ain't  Miss  Lizzie 
Bettie  Pryor.  Please  don't  tell  me  not  to  get  it. 
Please  don't!"  And  the  little  fingers  twisted  and 
untwisted  in  tragic  intensity  of  appeal. 

"I  ought  to  tell  you."  Miss  Gary  looked  doubt 
fully  at  the  pickle- jar.  "  But  if  you  get  it  will  you 
promise  not  to  ask  for  another  for  a  long,  long  time  ? 
They  are  almost  poisonous.  Mr.  Blick,  I  wish  you 
wouldn't  keep  them.  They  are  such  a  temptation 
to  the  children.  Isn't  there  anything  else  you  could 
keep  instead  ?" 

"Yes'm,  plenty  of  things.  But  that's  all  I  would 
do.  I'd  keep  'em.  I  tell  you  times  ain't  like  they 
was,  Miss  Gary,  and  if  you  don't  sell  what  people 

85 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

want  to  buy,  they'll  buy  from  the  man  who  sells  what 
they  want.  And  then  what  would  Mrs.  Blick  and 
the  babies  do  ?" 

Mr.  Slick's  bright  little  black  eyes  beamed  first 
at  Miss  Gary  and  then  at  the  gentleman  in  the  door, 
but,  neither  venturing  an  answer,  he  cut  off  a  piece  of 
pork  and  wrapped  it  carefully.  "Not  being  in  the 
missionary  business,  I  have  to  meet  the  times,  for  if 
we  don't  stand  up  we  set  down,  and  folks  walk  right 
along  over  us  and  don't  know  we're  there.  I  don't 
approve  of  pickle,  or  cocoanut,  either,  as  for  that" — 
he  tapped  a  jar  filled  with  water,  in  which  soaked 
broken  pieces  of  the  fruit  of  the  tree  forbidden  by 
most  Yorkburg  mothers — "but  business  is  business, 
which  I  ain't  attendin'  to  or  I'd  be  takin'  your  order 
'stead  of  wastin'  your  time."  And  again  the  black 
little  eyes  gleamed  like  polished  chinquapins  sunk  in 
a  round  red  peach. 

"Oh  no!  Peggy  was  here  first  and  her  mother  is 
waiting  for  her.  You  give  her  what  she  came  for 
while  I  look  around  for  what  I  want." 

Mr.  Blick,  knowing  further  words  were  unwise, 
began  patiently  to  do  up  the  eggs'  worth  of  pork 
and  pepper  and  molasses,  and  John  Maxwell,  watch 
ing  him  to  see  in  what  proportions  they  would  be 
meted  out,  grew  as  interested  as  Peggy,  whose  shrewd 
little  eyes  had  so  early  been  trained  in  weights  and 
measurements  that  she  could  tell  quickly  the  number 
of  eggs  required  for  an  ounce  or  quarter  or  half  a 

86 


PEGGY 

pound  of  the  purchase  to  be  made.  Putting  the 
packages  in  a  basket,  she  turned;  then,  remembering 
a  final  order,  stood  again  at  the  counter. 

"I  forgot,  Mr.  Blick.  Muther  say  won't  you 
please  send  her  nine  of  them  little  blue-and-red-and- 
white  birthday  candles  ?  She  wants  'em  for  the 
twins'  birthday.  It  comes  on  the  Fourth  of  July; 
they  will  be  nine  on  the  Fourth,  Washington  and 
Jefferson  will,  and  muther's  been  wanting  ever  since 
they  been  born  to  celebrate  their  birthday,  but  suppin' 
always  happened;  somebody  was  sick,  or  Wash  and 
Jeff  been  fightin',  so  she  couldn't  in  conscience  give 
'em  a  party.  But  the  last  time  'twas  her  fault — she 
mashed  her  finger;  so  she  say  she  thinks  she'll  have 
it  now  if 'n  it  is  May  'stead  of  July,  cause  there  ain't 
nothing  the  matter,  and  she  knows  there  will  be  if 
she  waits  till  the  right  time.  She  say  she'll  send 
the  eggs  for  the  candles  as  soon  as  Grandpa  Duke 
and  Miss  Florence  Nightingale  lays  'em.  She  knows 
Mis'  Blick  likes  their  eggs  best.  It  will  take  a  dozen, 
won't  it  ?" 

John  Maxwell  turned  toward  Miss  Gary,  his  fore 
head  wrinkled  in  puzzled  inquiry.  "In  the  name  of 
chicken-science,  what  is  she  talking  about  ?  If  I 
oughtn't  to  ask,  don't  tell  me,  but — " 

"It's  a  new  world  I  told  you  you'd  be  finding." 
Mary  Gary  laughed,  running  her  hand  through   a 
peck  measure  of  black-eyed  peas.     "And  where  but 
in  Yorkburg  will  eggs  serve  for  currency  ?" 
7  87 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

"  But  when  Grandpa  Duke  lays  the  eggs  ?  What 
does  she  mean  ?" 

"That  the  big  black  hen  was  a  present  from  Mr. 
Duke,  Mrs.  McDougal's  father,  and  named  in  honor 
of  him.  All  Mrs.  McDougal's  hens  are  named — 
honorably  named.  Her  roosters,  also.  But  having 
few  roosters  and  admiring  many  men,  she  bestows  on 
her  lady  chickens  the  names  of  distinguished  gentle 
men.  It's  her  only  way  of  keeping  in  touch  with 
great  people,  she  says.  You  must  know  Peggy's 
mother.  She  is  one  of  my  good  friends.  Would  you 
like  to  go  to  the  party  ?" 

Before  he  could  answer:  "Peggy!"  she  called — 
"Peggy,  come  here  and  tell  us  when  the  party  takes 
place." 

Peggy,  package-laden,  came  slowly  toward  the 
door  near  which  Miss  Gary  and  John  Maxwell  were 
standing.  The  top  end  of  the  precious  pickle  had 
been  bitten  of?,  and  Peggy's  face,  wrinkled  in  dis 
torted  enjoyment  of  its  salty  sourness,  was  endeavor 
ing  to  straighten  itself  before  making  answer. 

"Oh,  Miss  Mary  Gary,  will  you  come  to  the 
party  ?  Will  you  0?  There's  going  to  be  flags  and 
poppers  and  lemonade  and — and  a  lot  of  things. 
Muther  say  she's  been  intendin'  to  give  a  party  ever 
since  she's  been  married,  but  she  ain't  ever  had  a 
minute  to  do  it  in.  The  reason  she  is  goin'  to  give  it 
to  the  boys  is  because  they  was  born  the  same  day 
the  United  States  was.  They'll  be  nine  on  the 


PEGGY 

Fourth  of  July  and  the  United  States  will  be— 
She  shook  her  head.  "I  don't  know  how  old  the 
United  States  is,  but  muther  say  being  born  when 
they  was,  and  being  named  for  Presidents,  she's 
bound  to  teach  us  patriotics,  and  a  party  is  the  best 
way  she  knows  of.  She'd  give  it  to  me  or  Teeny 
if  our  birthdays  stood  for  anything,  but  they  don't. 
I'm  ten,  goin'  on  eleven,  and  ain't  anybody  yet  re 
membered  when  my  birthday  comes." 

Peggy  was  red  in  the  face  and  out  of  breath.  The 
eagerness  of  her  invitation  had  dried  her  throat, 
which  needed  moistening.  Ducking  her  head,  she 
bit  off  the  other  end  of  the  pickle  and,  in  an  effort  to 
swallow  naturally,  blinked  furiously. 

"That's  all  and  no  more,"  she  said,  nodding  ex 
planatorily  at  Miss  Gary.  "I  always  take  the  two 
ends.  They're  toughest,  and  you  can  chew  'em 
longest.  The  other  children  get  the  middle,"  and 
she  put  said  middle  carefully  between  the  pork  and 
pepper.  "  If  you  don't  want  me  to,  I  won't  eat  an 
other  for — for  how  long  mustn't  I  eat  it,  Miss  Gary  ?" 

"For  six  months."     Miss  Gary's  voice  made  ef 
fort   to    be   severe.     "They   will    ruin   you.     They 
really  will.     But  run  along  and  tell  your  mother 
we  are  coming  to  the  party.     What  time  did  you  say 
•  it  was  to  be  ?" 

"I  didn't  say.  Muther  ain't  said  herself  yet.  She 
say  out  of  nine  you  can  always  count  on  suppin' 
happenin'  that  oughtn't,  specially  when  five  is  boys. 

89 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

But  I  reckon  it  will  be  about  four  o'clock,  and  she 
thinks  Friday  will  be  the  day.  If  muther  can  get  'em 
all  washed  and  keep  the  lemonade  from  being  drunk 
up  she  will  have  it  at  four.  If 'n  she  can't  she  will 
have  it  when  she  can.  But  please  'm,  oh  please  'm, 
be  sure  and  come!" 

She  started  down  the  street,  then  turned,  as  if  sud 
denly  remembering,  and  came  back  to  the  man  still 
standing  in  the  door,  watching  her  with  amused  eyes. 

"  Muther  will  be  glad  to  have  you  come,  too,"  she 
said,  nodding  gravely,  "Mr. — Mr. — what  did  you 
say  your  name  was  ?" 

"Maxwell."     And  again  the  hat  was  lifted. 

"  Maxwell,"  she  repeated.  "  I  hope  you  will  come, 
too.  I  don't  know  whether  muther  knows  you  or 
not,  but  if  you  was  Satan  himself  she  would  be  glad 
to  see  you — if  'n  you  was  a  friend  of  Miss  Mary 
Gary." 


"N 


VIII 

PEGGY'S  PARTY 

OW,  ain't  I  glad  to  see  you!  Come  right 
along  in  and  set  down,  unless  you'd 
rather  set  out.  I'm  that  proud  to  have 
you  here  I'm  right  light  in  the  head,  that 
I  am  !"  and  John  Maxwell's  hand  was 
shaken  heartily.  "  Lord,  what  a  big 
man  you've  gone  and  got  to  be!  Your  dotingest 
grandma  wouldn't  have  believed  you  would  grow 
into  good  looks  when  you  was  fifteen.  You  were  the 
ugliest,  nicest  boy  I  ever  seen  at  fifteen,  and  look  at 
you  now!  Look  at  you  now!" 

Mrs.  McDougal  stood  off  and  gazed  with  admiring 
candor  at  the  man  before  her,  and  the  man,  laughing 
good-naturedly,  seated  himself  on  the  railing  of  the 
little  porch  and  threw  his  hat  on  a  chair  at  its  far 
end.  "If  I've  changed  it's  more  than  you  have, 
just  as  young  and  gay  as  ever,"  he  said,  nodding 
*toward  her,  "and  still  a  woman  of  sense  and  dis 
crimination.  Nobody  but  you  knows  I'm  hand 
some." 

"I    ain't  sayin'   you're   an   Appolus   Belviderus. 


MISS   G1BBIE   GAULT 

You  ain't.  But  you  look  like  a  man,  and  that's  what 
many  who  wears  pants  don't.  And  good  clothes  is 
a  powerful  help  to  face  and  figger.  I  certainly  am 
proud  to  see  you.  I  certainly  am !" 

"And  I  certainly  am  glad  to  see  you.  I  certainly 
am!"  He  bobbed  his  head  in  imitation  of  Mrs. 
McDougal,  whose  words  were  always  emphasized  by 
gestures,  and  laughed  in  the  puzzled  eyes  of  the  girl 
beside  her,  pulling  off  her  long  gloves.  "  Miss  Gary 
asked  me  the  other  day  if  I  didn't  want  to  know  you. 
She  didn't  know  you  were  a  friend  of  mine  before 
you  were  a  friend  of  hers.  Remember  those  apple 
jacks  I  used  to  get  from  you  ?  Bully  things!  Don't 
have  anything  like  that  in  New  York." 
.  "Don't  have  the  same  kind  of  stomach  to  put  'em 
in,  I  reckon.  Anything  is  good  to  boys  and  billy- 
goats,  but  edjicated  insides  is  sniffy,  they  tell  me. 
Set  down,  Mary  Gary.  Here,  take  this  rockin' -chair. 
Ain't  anything  been  spilt  on  this  one,  and  it's  the 
only  one  what  ain't.  I'm  that  thankful  nothin's 
caught  on  fire  that  I  was  thinkin*  of  settin'  down 
myself,  but  'twon't  be  no  use.  Look-a-yonder! 
If  that  Bickles  boy  ain't  tied  a  pop-cracker  to  Mis' 
Jepson's  chief  rooster,  and  right  on  to  its  comb! 
Hi,  there!  Don't  you  light  that  thing!"  And  Mrs. 
McDougal  waved  vigorously  with  her  apron  in  the 
direction  of  a  small  group  of  stooping  watchers, 
hands  on  knees  and  eyes  eagerly  intent. 

The    warning   was    too    late.     An    explosion,    a 

92 


PEGGY'S   PARTY 

frantic  crow  from  a  once  lordly  cock,  a  scurry  to 
safer  quarters,  jeering  cheers  from  heartless  throats, 
and  then  silence  as  Mrs.  McDougal's  waving  arms 
were  seen. 

"Let  me  go  down  and  see  what  they  are  doing," 
and  Mary  Gary  laid  gloves  and  parasol  on  the  chair, 
unpinned  her  hat  and  put  it  beside  them.  "We  were 
so  late  I  was  afraid  the  children  would  be  gone. 
Look  at  that  little  rascal  tying  two  dogs'  tails  to 
gether!"  Down  the  steps  she  ran  and  across  the 
yard,  and  as  she  approached  there  was  a  rush  tow 
ard  her.  Instantly  she  was  the  centre  of  a  crowding, 
swarming  group  of  children,  all  talking  at  once,  and 
all  trying  to  see  what  she  had  come  to  do,  but  as  she 
raised  her  hand  there  was  momentary  stillness. 

"Now  I  can  set  down."  With  a  sigh  of  relief  Mrs. 
McDougal  took  the  chair  offered  to  Miss  Cary, 
folded  her  arms,  and  began  to  rock,  her  eyes  fastened 
on  the  man  still  on  the  railing  of  the  little  porch,  but 
now  with  his  back  against  a  post  and  hands  clasped 
over  the  knee  of  his  right  leg. 

"I  can  set  down  in  peace  for  a  few  minutes  any 
how,"  she  went  on,  "  for  as  long  as  Miss  Mary  is  out 
there  things  will  go  right.  Some  women  is  born  with 
a  way  to  manage  children.  She  was."  She  nodded 
toward  the  yard.  "Remember  how  she  used  to  do 
those  'sylum  children  ?  Led  'em  into  more  mis 
chief  than  all  the  rest  put  together,  but  she  always 
led  'em  out,  and  they  were  like  sheep  behind  her. 

93 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

Loved  her.  That  was  it.  Ain't  it  funny  the  things 
folks  will  do  for  a  person  just  on  account  of  lovin' 
'em  ?  And  ain't  it  funny  how  you  can't  love  some 
people  to  save  your  life  ?  You  know  you  ought  to, 
specially  if  they're  kin,  and  you  try  to,  but  you  can't 
do  it.  The  very  sight  of  some  folks  makes  the  old 
boy  rise  up  in  you,  and  you  wish  they  was  in — 
well,  I  ain't  sayin'  where  you  wish  they  was.  My 
grandmother  always  told  me  you'd  better  keep  some 
wishes  to  yourself. 

"But  there's  one  person  in  this  town  what  makes 
me  want  to  do  to  her  just  what  Billy  Bickles  did  to 
that  rooster  just  now.  She's  that  superior,  and  so 
twisty  in  the  corners  of  her  mouth,  that  I'm  always 
wishin'  I  could  fix  the  kind  of  fall  her  pride's  goin' 
to  have  some  day.  Bound  to  have  it,  pride  is. 
'Ain't  no  law  to  hold  it  up  any  more  than  an  apple 
in  the  air,  and  both  of  'em  is  got  to  come  down. 
When  folks  pass  other  folks  what  they  know  in  the 
street,  and  don't  any  more  speak  to  'em  than  if  they 
was  worms  of  the  dust,  they  think  it's  on  account  of 
bein'  who  they  are,  and  they  don't  know  it's  on 
account  of  bein'  what  they  is.  Of  course  a  person 
can't  be  blamed  for  bein'  born  a  fool,  but  a  fool 
ought  to  know  better  than  to  be  fooler  than  it's  bound 
to  be.  I  don't  mind  Mrs.  Deford  not  noticin'  me, 
but  Susie,  who  sells  her  all  her  hats,  says— " 

"Mrs.  Deford?"  John  Maxwell,  who  was  only 
half  listening,  and  who  had  been  watching  the  chil- 

94 


PEGGY'S   PARTY 

dren,  turned  toward  Mrs.  McDougal.  "You  mean 
Mrs.  Walter  Deford  ?" 

"That's  who  I  mean,  though  I  don't  see  what 
she's  called  Mrs.  Walter  Deford  for,  being  as  'tis 
Mr.  Walter  Deford  don't  seem  to  enjoy  her  company 
any  more  than  I  do.  If  he's  been  in  Yorkburg  for 
eight  years,  nobody's  heard  of  it.  When  she  dies 
she  oughtn't  to  be  res'rected.  In  heaven  there'll  be 
saints,  born  plain.  She  couldn't  associate  with  them. 
In  hell  there'll  be  blue-blooded  sinners,  and  she  can't 
mix  with  sinners.  The  grave's  the  place  for  her,  and 
won't  anybody  round  here  weep  when  she's  put  in  it. 
But  Lord-a-mercy,  what  am  I  wastin'  time  talking 
about  an  old  teapot  like  her  for  ?  She's  hurt  Susie's 
feelin's  so  often,  Susie  bein'  like  her  pa,  and  not 
havin'  much  spirit,  that  I  get  kinder  riled  when  her 
name  is  mentioned.  But  my  grandmother  always 
did  say  if  you  didn't  like  a  person,  spew  them  out  of 
your  heart  and  shut  your  mouth.  And  here  I  am 
talkin'  about  a  nothin',  'stead  of  askin'  you  'bout 
yourself.  It's  been  a  long  time  since  I  seen  you. 
Them  other  times  when  you've  been  down  I  ain't 
even  had  a  chance  to  glimpse  you  on  the  street,  but 
the  children  told  me,  Susie  and  Hunt  did,  that  you 
|ewas  a  New-Yorker  all  right,  and  you  is  that.  I  tell 
you  good  clothes  and  an  easy  air  don't  hurt  anybody." 
She  nodded  her  head.  "You  look  like  where  you 
come  from." 

"Any  difference  in  New-Yorkers  and  other  people  ? 

95 


Mind  my  smoking  ?"  He  took  a  package  of  cigar 
ettes  out  of  his  pocket,  lighted  one  and  put  the  rest 
back.  "In  New  York  I  tell  people  I'm  from  York- 
burg.  Could  I  have  arranged  it  I  would  have  been 
born  here.  Not  my  fault  I'm  not  a  Virginian."  He 
laughed,  knocking  the  ashes  from  his  cigarette. 
"You've  got  a  bunch  of  them.  All  those  yours?" 
She  peered  above  the  railing  and  counted.  "Ain't 
but  five  of  'em  mine.  The  four  oldest  works.  Susie 
stays  in  Miss  Patty  Moore's  millinery  store,  Lizzie  lives 
with  her  grandpa,  Hunt  is  at  the  woolen  mills  with  his 
pa,  and  Teeny  helps  Mrs.  Blick  with  the  children.  The 
youngest  is  twins,  they're  seven.  The  next  is  twins, 
too.  They  will  be  nine  on  the  Fourth  of  July,  and 
this  was  to  be  their  party,  but  they  got  to  fightin'  so 
over  who  was  to  be  invited  that  I  had  to  keep  'em 
in  bed  all  day  yesterday,  and  not  let  it  be  their  party 
at  all.  I  told  'em  'twas  Peggy's,  but  I'd  do  the  in- 
vitin'  myself.  I  didn't  want  that  Billy  Bickles,  but 
if  I  hadn't  asked  him  there'd  been  trouble  for  me  as 
long  as  life.  I  know  his  ma  too  well.  Don't  reckon 
you  ever  knew  Mis'  Bickles  ?  She's  one  of  them  kind 
of  women  who's  always  seein'  she  gets  what's  comin' 
to  her,  and  takes  what  ain't.  Her  husband  lives  up 
the  country.  He  warn't  much  to  leave:  one  of  them 
lazy,  good-natured  kind  what  always  had  a  pain 
handy;  and  Mis'  Bickles  says  she  left  him  while  her 
family  was  small.  Mis'  Bickles's  got  more  sense  than 
you'd  think  from  lookin'  at  her,  and  a  tongue  what 

96 


PEGGY'S   PARTY 

tells  all  it  knows  and  makes  up  what  it  don't.  It 
don't  do  to  get  that  kind  of  a  tongue  down  on 
you. 

"Them  two  children  over  there" — she  pointed 
vaguely  toward  the  now  shouting  group — "  those  two 
with  red  hair  and  red  ribbons  is  Mr.  Sam  Winter's 
little  girls.  I  don't  like  'em,  but  if  there's  any  one 
woman  in  this  world  I  feel  sorry  for  it's  Sam  Winter's 
wife,  and  so  I  invited  'em.  Ain't  they  the  ugliest, 
freckledest  little  things  you  ever  saw  ?  Don't  reckon 
you  remember  their  ma,  either  ?  She  used  to  stay  in 
Mr.  Pat  Horston's  bakery  and  confectionery  when 
you  lived  here.  That's  been — " 

"Ten  years  ago  this  October." 

"That's  so.  I  remember  it  now  like  'twas  yester 
day.  Never  will  forget  the  day  your  father  died  so 
sudden,  just  like  Mr.  Pryor,  and  everything  in  York- 
burg  seemed  to  stop.  He  was  the  kind  of  man  who 
makes  wheels  go  round,  and  everybody  thought  when 
he  died  the  shoe  factory  would  shut  down  and  the 
'lectric-light  plant  would  go  out;  and  people  round 
here  say  they  would  if  you  hadn't  put  your  foot  down 
and  told  your  ma  they  had  to  keep  up.  Sixteen  was 
right  young  to  be  buttin'  into  business  matters,  but 
some  folks  is  born  older  than  others,  and  I  reckon 
*  you've  got  right  much  of  your  pa  in  you.  And  that's 
what  I  told  McDougal  I  liked  about  you.  You  knew 
what  you  wanted,  and  when  you  made  up  your  mind 
to  do  a  thing,  'twould  be  death  or  you  would  win. 

97 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

And  my  grandmother  always  did  say,  for  winning, 
will  was  worth  more  than  anything  else  on  earth. 

"But  I  ain't  asked  you  what  kind  of  business 
you're  in,  or  how  you're  gettin'  on  in  it,  nor  how  your 
ma  is.  I  hope  she's  well.  And  your  sister,  too. 
They  tell  me  she's  married — " 

"She  is.  Living  in  California.  Got  two  children. 
Mother  is  very  well,  thank  you.  She's  abroad  just 
now.  I'm  in  the  law  business.  I  get  my  bread  out 
of  it,  but  not  much  jam  yet.  You  were  speaking  of 
Sam  Winter's  wife  just  now.  I  remember  her;  used 
to  sell  us  cakes  and  pies,  and  so  afraid  she  wouldn't 
get  the  change  right  she  nearly  wore  her  ringers  out 
counting  on  them.  We  used  to  borrow  a  big  piece  of 
money — a  dollar  was  big  in  those  days — just  to  watch 
her  face  get  red  when  we'd  tell  her  the  change  was 
wrong.  Little  beasts!  Somebody  ought  to  have 
beaten  us." 

"That  they  ought.  And  somebody  ought  to  beat 
Sam  Winter  every  day  in  the  week.  Ain't  nothing 
I  would  like  better  than  to  have  a  whack  at  him. 
I've  often  wished  I  was  his  wife  for  just  five  minutes. 
He'd  be  jelly  or  I  one  when  'twas  over.  Some  men 
need  lickin'.  Sam's  one  of  the  kind  who  thinks  when 
the  Lord  made  woman  He  made  her  to  be  man's 
footstool  when  she  warn't  anything  else  he  needed 
at  the  time.  Certainly  is  funny  how  many  people 
talk  like  they  had  a  private  telegraph-wire  running 
right  up  to  the  throne  of  God,  and  you'd  think  they 


PEGGY'S   PARTY 

had  special  messages  from  Him  from  the  cocksure 
way  in  which  they  tell  you  what  He  says  and  means. 
And  specially  'bout  women.  The  Bible  is  a  great 
stand-by  with  some  men  when  it  comes  to  women. 
But  I  reckon  women  has  brought  a  lot  of  it  on  them 
selves.  They  ain't  had  a  chance  to  fight  fair  in  life. 
Being  mothers  has  made  'em  stand  a  heap  they 
wouldn't  otherwise.  A  woman  will  stand  most  any 
thing  for  her  children." 

John  Maxwell  laughed.  "You  are  looking  at  me 
as  if  I  didn't  agree  with  you.  I  do.  I  know  some 
men  of  the  Sam  Winter  kind.  And  they  always  get 
the  wrong  sort  of  wife.  Now  if  Sam  had  married 
you—" 

"He'd  be  dead  or  different  by  this  time.  There 
ain't  much  in  life  to  be  sure  of,  but  you  can  be  sure 
of  that.  A  woman  is  a  human  being,  if  she  is  a 
female,  and  I  ain't  ever  seen  a  male  creature  who  had 
any  respect  for  a  female  one  he  could  step  on.  And 
that's  what  poor,  meek  little  Fanny  Winter  lets  Sam 
do,  and  of  course  he  takes  advantage.  'Tain't  in 
human  nature  for  a  man  not  to  kick  something  every 
now  and  then  what  sits  at  his  feet  all  the  time." 

"Good  Lord!  He  doesn't  beat  her  ?"  John  Max 
well  turned  suddenly,  in  his  eyes  a  queer  light. 
"You  mean  he  strikes  her  ?" 

Mrs.  McDougal  brought  her  chair  closer  to  the 
railing.  "I  don't  believe  those  children  are  ever 
goin'  home.  Some  come  at  three,  and  it's  after  seven. 

99 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

They've  et  up  all  there  was  to  eat,  and  drunk  a  wash- 
tub  full  of  lemonade,  but  that  Bickles  boy  and  Fuzzy 
Toone  and  Mineola  Hodgkins  will  stay  till  next  week 
if  I  don't  make  'em  go.  I  believe  the  little  Winters 
is  gone.  Look  at  Peggy!  Ain't  she  havin*  a  grand 
time  ?  I'm  glad  you  and  Miss  Mary  didn't  come 
till  the  first  rush-round  was  over.  There's  been 
twenty-one  of  'em  here  includin*  of  my  five,  and  I  tell 
you  when  you  get  through  feedin*  and  fillin'  of 
twenty-one  hollow  stomachs  you're  ready  for  rest. 
How  many  out  there  now  ?" 

"Eleven.  Let  me  see."  John  counted  again. 
"No,  ten.  Miss  Gary  makes  the  eleventh.  I  be 
lieve  she's  going  to  tell  them  a  story.  They're  get 
ting  ready  to  sit  down  under  your  mulberry-tree. 
Yes,  that's  what  they're  going  to  do.  Let  them 
alone.  They're  having  a  good  time." 

"And  so  am  I.  Certainly  am  enjoyin'  of  myself 
hearin'  all  about  you.  I  tell  you  the  mother  of  nine 
don't  often  have  time  to  set  down  and  rock  in  day 
light,  and  at  night  I'm  so  tired  that  if  'twasn't  for  the 
basin  of  cold  water  I  keep  on  the  back  porch  to  put 
my  face  in  I'd  go  to  sleep  before  I'd  read  a  page," 

A  fresh  cigarette  was  lighted.  "Like  to  read? 
Why  didn't  you  tell  me  ?  Got  a  lot  of  books  I  don't 
know  what  to  do  with.  Will  send  them  down  if  you 
want  them — " 

"Want  them?"  Mrs.  McDougal  sat  upright, 
hands  up  also*  "It's  the  sin  of  my  life,  readin*  is. 

100 


PEGGY'S   PARTY 

But  it's  saved  me  from  losin'  my  mind.  When  a 
person  gets  up  at  five  o'clock  three  hundred  and 
sixty-five  days  in  the  year,  except  Sundays,  when  it's 
six;  cooks,  washes  dishes,  cleans,  sews,  cooks,  washes 
dishes,  sews,  cooks,  washes  dishes,  and  in  between 
times  scrambles  round  doin'  dozens  of  odd  jobs  that 
don't  count,  life  ain't  true  poetry,  and  if  'twarn't  for 
risin'  out  the  world  I  live  in  and  gettin'  into  a  book 
one  at  night  I'd  gone  crazy  long  before  this.  Makes 
my  mouth  water  just  to  think  of  havin'  some  books 
of  my  own.  All  I  read  is  borrowed,  and  I  have  to 
hide  'em  under  the  mattress  to  keep  the  children  from 
gettin'  'em  dirty.  I  thank  you  hearty,  Mr.  John;  I 
certainly  do." 

John  Maxwell  took  a  note-book  and  pencil  out  of 
his  pocket.  "I've  a  good  forgettery  and  if  I  don't 
put  that  down  you'd  have  to  write,  perhaps.  How 
about  Mr.  McDougal  ?  What  kind  does  he  like  ?" 

Mrs.  McDougal's  jolly  laugh  reached  to  the  mul 
berry-tree  and  the  children  looked  up.  "Books! 
McDougal!"  Her  hands  came  down  on  her  knees 
with  a  resounding  smack.  "If  McDougal  has  read 
a  book  since  I've  been  married  to  him  he's  done  it  in 
the  dark.  Books  ain't  his  line.  He's  a  good  man, 
McDougal  is,  but  you  couldn't  call  him  lit'rary.  You 
^ee" — she  settled  herself  back  in  her  chair  and  again 
folded  her  arms — "he  hasn't  got.  what  you  might  say 
was  imaginations.  He  can't  understand  why  some 
days  I'd  so  much  rather  use  the  axe  on  the  kitchen 

101 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

stove  than  in  the  wood-house,  or  why  the  sight  of  a 
dish-pan  makes  me  sick  in  my  stomach.  As  for  my 
chickens — calling  hens  and  roosters  by  names  of  big 
people  is  tommy-rot  to  him,  and  he  don't  any  more 
know  my  longin's  for  a  look  at  high  life  and  for  people 
who  use  elegant  language  and  paint  pictures  and  play 
the  pianer  than  I  understand  how  he  can  live  in  a  tea 
cup  and  not  smash  it.  He's  one  of  the  kind  what 
believes  you  ought  to  stay  where  you're  put,  but  in 
my  opinion  them  what  believes  that,  as  a  rule,  ain't 
got  sense  or  hustle  enough  to  get  out.  I'm  not  sayin' 
McDougal  is  lazy  or  lackin',  but  his  own  ma  couldn't 
think  he  had  a  brain  that  was  lively.  He  ain't  got 
it.  Did  you  ever  see  a  mule  goin'  round  a  cider 
mill  ?  That's  McDougal.  In  the  daytime  he's  as 
given  to  silence  as  I  am  to  talk,  but  couldn't  anybody 
beat  him  snorin'.  Sometimes  I  think  the  roof  has 
gone." 

John  Maxwell  coughed.  The  smoke  from  the 
cigarette  had  gone  the  wrong  way  and  his  eyes  were 
watery. 

"But  he's  a  good  man,  McDougal  is,"  his  wife 
continued,  "and  everything  he  makes  he  hands  over 
to  me.  A  woman  couldn't  ask  a  man  to  do  more 
than  that,  even  if  she'd  like  a  little  more  to  be 
handed.  But  we  ain't  never  had  no  quarrels  about 
money.  Some  men  is  so  cussin'  mean  about  money, 
and  some  women  is  so  cussin'  onreasonable  in  de- 
mandin'  of  it,  that  it's  caused  more  trouble  between 

1 02 


PEGGY'S   PARTY 

husbands  and  wives  than  any  one  thing  on  earth,  I 
believe.  No,  we  ain't  ever  had  no  words  that  way. 
But  I  know  a  lot  what  has.  Sam  Winter  is  one  of 
them  kind  of  men  who  thinks  a  woman  don't  need  to 
know  the  color  of  cash.  When  he  married  his  wife 
you'd  think  he'd  bought  her  by  the  pound.  She's 
his.  He  gives  her  what  he  feels  like,  and  his  feelin's 
are  few.  What'd  you  ask  me  about  her  just  now  ? 
Did  he  strike  her  ?  No,  he  don't  strike  her,  not  with 
his  fists,  but  there  ain't  a  day  he  don't  hurt  her  some 
way.  It  don't  do  to  have  too  tender  feelin's,  and 
there  ain't  much  show  for  a  woman  born  meek  and 
humble.  A  man  can't  stand  it.  I  don't  blame  him 
much.  Nothin'  is  so  wearin'  on  you  as  humbleness. 
Good  gracious,  if  it  ain't  strikin'  seven  o'clock!" 

She  got  up,  pushed  her  chair  back  and  started 
down  the  steps.  "Excuse  me,  Mr.  John,  but  if  I 
don't  send  them  children  home  they'll  stay  to  supper. 
That  they  will.  I'll  be  back  in  a  moment/' 

It  was  ten  minutes  before  she  came,  and  John 
Maxwell,  who  had  changed  his  seat  and  was  now  on 
the  upper  step  of  the  little  porch,  rose  as  she  and 
Miss  Gary,  followed  by  the  five  children,  approached, 
and  held  out  his  hand. 

"Hello,  Peggy!  Had  a  good  time  ?  Much  obliged 
'to  you  for  inviting  me.  Sorry  I  missed  the  fireworks. 
Miss  Gary's  fault.  She  was  an  hour  late." 

Peggy  shook  hands  and  also  her  head.  "Miss 
Mary  ain't  never  late.  'Twas  you,  I  reckon.  We've 
8  103 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

had  a  grand  time.  Wash  and  Jeff  drank  thirteen 
glasses  of  lemonade  apiece.  I  counted.  Mineola 
and  me  didn't  drink  but  five.  We  couldn't."  She 
turned  to  her  mother.  "You  sit  down,  muther; 
I'll  fix  supper.  Good-bye,  Mr.  Maxwell.  Good 
bye,  Miss  Mary.  That  was  a  beautiful  story  you 
told,  but  I  don't  believe  it.  There  ain't  fairies  sure 
'nough."  And  marshalling  the  boys  before  her  she 
disappeared  in  the  little  hall  and  closed  the  door 
behind  her. 

Mary  Gary  put  on  her  hat,  wiped  her  face,  and 
handed  John  her  gloves.  "Put  them  in  your  pocket; 
it's  too  warm  to  wear  them."  She  turned  to  the 
woman  beside  her  and  laid  her  hand  on  her  shoulder. 
"It's  been  a  fine  party,  Mrs.  McDougal.  The  chil 
dren  had  a  lovely  time  and  certainly  did  behave 
nicely." 

"Lor',  Miss  Mary,  you  didn't  see  'em.  Half  was 
gone  when  you  got  here.  The  hour  to  come  was 
four,  but  some  come  by  three.  Becky  Koontz  says 
she  always  goes  early  to  a  party,  'cause  if  you  don't 
there's  just  scraps,  and  she  don't  like  leavin's.  I 
did  all  the  invitin',  and  when  I  thought  out  who  I'd 
ask  I  felt  downright  fashionable.  That  I  did.  Ain't 
a  child  been  here  this  evenin'  that  I  care  shucks  for, 
'cept  two;  and  they  tell  me  that's  the  way  they  do 
now  in  high  society.  You  don't  ask  the  folks  you 
like  or  really  want,  but  the  folks  what's  asked  you  or 
you  think  'twould  sound  nice  to  have.  I  ain't  fa- 

104 


PEGGY'S    PARTY 

miliar  with  high  life,  but  you  have  to  do  a  heap  of 
things  for  peace  and  politics,  and  Milltown  and  King 
Street  does  pretty  much  the  same  things  in  different 
ways,  I  reckon.  If  there's  anybody  in  this  town  I 
ain't  got  any  use  for  it's  Mis'  Feckles,  but  Mr.  Feckles 
is  my  boy's  boss,  and  if  her  children  hadn't  been  in 
vited  she'd  never  let  up  till  she  got  even.  Some 
women  is  like  that.  And  there  was  that  frisky  little 
Mary  Lou  Simmons.  She's  a  limb  of  the  law,  Mary 
Lou  is,  and  my  hands  just  itch  to  spank  her.  But  I 
had  to  invite  her.  Her  mother  invited  Peggy  to  her 
party,  and  her  mother's  right  smart  of  a  devil  when 
she  gets  mad  with  you.  But  I  certainly  am  sorry 
you've  got  to  go.  It  takes  me  back  to  old  times  to 
see  you,  Mr.  John.  And  what  a  shakin'  up  there's 
been  since  you  young  people  lived  here  ten  years  ago ! 
Funny  you  ain't  either  one  married.  I  don't  blame 
you.  There's  a  heap  to  be  said  both  ways,  and 
times  when  you'd  wish  you  hadn't,  no  matter  which 
one  you  went.  Good-bye.  I  certainly  have  en 
joyed  hearin'  of  you  talk.  Come  again.  Good 
bye."  And  as  long  as  they  could  be  seen  Mrs. 
McDougal's  arm  was  waving  up  and  down  at  the 
backs  of  the  unthinking  couple,  who  forgot  to  turn 

and  wave  in  reply. 

t-  j 


IX 


rl £1 


JOHN   MAXWELL   AND   MARY   GARY 

HE'S  had  a  good  time  all  right."  John 
Maxwell  turned  to  the  girl  beside  him 
and  laughed  in  the  face  which  looked 
into  his  and  laughed  also.  "I  never 
even  tried  as  much  as  a  sentence.  She 
must  have  some  sort  of  an  automatic 
arrangement  somewhere  inside  of  her.  Does  she 
never  run  down,  never  stop  talking  ?" 

"Never."  Mary  Gary  was  looking  ahead  at  the 
windows  of  a  large  building  some  distance  away. 
"But  she's  a  dear  all  the  same,  and  does  the  work  of 
four  people  every  day  of  her  life.  She  hasn't,  as  she 
says,  an  educated  tongue,  but  her  understanding  of 
human  nature  is  greater  than  mine  or  yours  is  ever 
likely  to  be.  And  she  doesn't  mind  saying  what 
other  people  think.  I  like  her."  She  stood  still. 
"Did  you  ever  see  such  an  improvement  in  a  place 
as  there  has  been  in  the  woolen  mills  in  the  past 
year  ?  Every  window,  back,  front,  and  sides,  has 
its  box  of  flowers,  and  the  grounds  are  downright 
pretty.  I  know  you  thought  it  was  nonsense  when 

1 06 


JOHN   MAXWELL    AND   MARY    GARY 

I  asked  you  to  put  flower-boxes  in  the  shoe  factory's 
windows,  but  you  don't  know  what  a  help  it's  been 
to  the  hands.  Their  pride  is  as  great  as  their  pleas 
ure,  and  since  the  prize  of  fifty  dollars  was  offered 
for  the  best  general  showing  the  rivalry  is  threatening 
to  give  trouble." 

"Of  course  it  is,  and  then  there'll  be  a  strike.  But 
they  do  look  better,  both  buildings."  And  John 
Maxwell  looked  critically  first  at  the  large  and  now 
rather  shabby  factory  of  which  he  was  the  owner, 
and  then  at  the  newer  woolen  mills  of  which  Mr. 
Moon  was  president. 

"I  suppose  I  did  think  it  was  nonsense,  putting 
flower-boxes  in  factory  windows,  but  if  the  people 
like  them  I'm  glad  they're  there.  It  must  be  rather 
dreary  pegging  away  on  leather  six  days  in  the  week, 
and  if  the  flowers  help,  certainly  it's  a  pretty  way  of 
helping.  But  a  man  wouldn't  have  thought  of  it. 
As  a  suggester  a  woman  might  get  a  steady  job.  How 
did  you  make  Mr.  Moon  go  in  ?" 

"Sarah  Sue  made  him.  Solemn,  sensible  Sarah 
Sue  told  him  it  was  his  duty.  You  don't  know  what 
a  help  she  is.  We  were  born  the  same  year,  but 
she's  ages  older  than  I  am.  And  the  flowers  were 
just  the  beginning.  They  were  andirons,  you  know, 
and  now  the  factories  are  so  much  cleaner.  Each 
has  a  rest-room,  and  something  we  call  a  dining- 
room,  where  coffee  and  sandwiches  and  soup  are 
served  every  day  at  cost,  just  a  few  pennies  for  each 

107 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

person.  Some  of  these  times  we  hope  there  is  going 
to  be  a  real  dining-room  and  kitchen  in  all  the  fac 
tories,  but  of  course  everything  can't  be  done  at  once. 
Don't  go  that  way."  She  put  her  hand  lightly  on  his 
arm.  "I  want  to  stop  a  moment  at  Mr.  Bailley's 
and  leave  him  this  book.  He  was  paralyzed  last 
week." 

The  book  was  left  and  again  they  started  up  the 
long,  partly  paved  street,  never  called  by  a  name, 
which  separated  Milltown  from  Yorkburg,  or  the 
silks  from  the  calicoes,  as  Mrs.  McDougal  put  it,  and 
soon  were  on  King  Street.  The  asylum,  where  the 
early  years  of  Mary  Gary's  life  had  been  spent,  stood 
out  clearly  against  the  soft  dusk  of  twilight,  and  the 
street,  now  quite  deserted,  stretched  in  a  straight 
tree-bordered  line  as  far  as  the  eye  could  see.  The 
usual  chatter  of  neighbors  on  each  other's  porches 
was  nowhere  heard,  for  the  hour  was  that  of  supper, 
but  through  the  open  doors  and  windows  came  the 
high  notes  of  children's  voices  and  an  occasional 
clatter  of  knives  and  forks. 

The  sun,  which  had  sunk  in  a  bed  of  golden  glory, 
had  left  behind  a  sky  of  shifting  purple  and  orange 
and  pink,  and,  as  the  colors  were  absorbed,  grew 
warmer,  fainter,  widened,  narrowed,  and  were  lost, 
the  glow  of  the  dying  day  faded,  and  out  of  the 
soft  grayness  one  by  one  the  stars  appeared. 

Walking  slowly  and  more  slowly,  and  all  uncon 
scious  of  their  lingering  steps,  John  Maxwell  and 

1 08 


JOHN    MAXWELL   AND    MARY    GARY 

Mary  Gary  watched  in  silence  the  changes  in  the 
sky,  noted  the  soft  green  of  trees  and  grass,  the 
blossoming  of  old-fashioned  flowers  in  gardens  of 
another  day,  reached  out  hands  to  pull  a  spray  of 
bridal  wreath  or  yellow  jessamine,  and  as  they  neared 
the  asylum  both  stopped,  though  why  they  hardly 
knew  themselves. 

"Study  hour,"  said  Mary  Gary,  explanatorily. 
"Poor  little  things!  Of  course  I  am  very  imprac 
tical,  and  I  would  never  do  for  the  head  of  anything, 
because  I  have  such  queer  ideas,  especially  about 
children.  But  I  don't  believe  they  will  ever  learn 
anything  in  a  book  that  would  do  them  as  much  good 
as  a  beautiful  sunset.  And  yet  they're  shut  up  in  the 
house  on  an  evening  like  this  studying  something 
about  the  sun,  perhaps,  and  not  allowed  to  see  its 
glories  and  wonders,  because  it  sets  at  an  hour  that 
is  set  apart  for  something  else.  Sometimes" — she 
pulled  a  bit  of  bridal  wreath  to  pieces  and  threw  its 
petals  on  the  ground — "sometimes  I  wonder  if  more 
harm  isn't  done  by  too  much  system  than  by  too 
little." 

"Doubtless  it  is."  John  Maxwell  smiled,  though 
in  his  eyes  were  other  thoughts  than  those  which  were 
filing  hers.  "But  there's  been  a  big  change  in  this 
place  since  you  were  here.  That  wing  was  a  great 
improvement.  Looks  now  pretty  much  like  a  big 
home  instead  of  a  place  for  herding  humans,  as  it 
once  looked.  How  I  used  to  hate  it!" 

109 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

"Hate  it?'*  They  had  resumed  their  walk  and 
she  looked  up.  "I  don't  see  what  you  hated  it 
for/' 

"Don't  you  ?"  He  took  out  his  handkerchief  and 
wiped  his  face,  and  as  he  put  it  back  in  his  pocket  he 
looked  in  her  questioning  eyes. 

"It  was  because  you  were  in  it  and  I  couldn't  take 
you  out/' 

She  shook  her  head.  "It  was  well  you  couldn't. 
You  wouldn't  have  known  what  to  do  with  me, 
and—" 

"I  knew  what  I  wanted  to  do.  I  wanted  mother 
to  send  you  to  the  finest  school  in  the  country,  get 
you  beautiful  clothes,  and  give  you  everything  you 
wanted  until  I  could  marry  you.  Then  I  was  going 
to  pay  her  back." 

"What  a  silly  boy!"  She  laughed,  but  she  did  not 
look  at  him.  They  had  turned  the  corner  and  were 
now  at  the  end  of  the  asylum  yard,  enclosed  by  its 
high  wooden  fence,  and  as  they  started  to  go  down 
the  street  which  would  lead  into  the  road  to  Tree 
Hill  she  laid  her  hand  again  on  his  arm. 

"Wait  a  minute."  Her  foot  was  against  a  certain 
paling,  and  with  her  heel  she  made  a  hole  in  the 
ground.  "Do  you  remember  this?" 

"Of  course  I  do."  Sudden  color  filled  his  face. 
"You  used  to  put  your  apple  there.  Every  time  I 
came  for  it  my  heart  nearly  jumped  in  the  hole  you 
hid  it  in,  I  was  so  afraid  I'd  be  seen  and  would  have 

no 


JOHN   MAXWELL   AND   MARY   GARY 

to  stop  coming.  I  never  ate  one  of  those  apples.  I 
couldn't." 

"I  don't  see  why  you  didn't.  They  were  awfully 
nice  apples.  I  loved  them." 

"I  know  you  did."  He  looked  straight  ahead. 
"That's  why  I  couldn't  eat  yours.  It  used  to  make 
me  so  fighting  furious  to  think — to  think  things  were 
like  they  were  that  every  night  I'd  throw  rocks  at 
the  brick  wall  in  front  of  the  house  for  half  an  hour 
before  I  went  home.  Did  you  know  the  first  time 
I  ever  saw  you  you  were  hanging  over  that  wall  ? 
It  was  on  a  Sunday  afternoon  and  I  asked  the  boy 
with  me  what  was  your  name.  From  that  Sunday 
to  the  week  you  went  away  I  never  missed  going  to 
Sunday-school.  Mother  couldn't  understand  it.  She 
didn't  know  you  were  compelled  to  be  there.  That's 
the  one  bit  of  system  I  approved  of  in  your  in 
stitution. 

"I  don't  remember  whether  it  was  on  the  next 
Sunday  after  I  saw  you  looking  over  the  wall  that  I 
made  up  my  mind  I  was  going  to  marry  you,  or  the 
Sunday  after,  but  it  was  one  or  the  other.  That  was 
over  ten  years  ago,  and — " 

"We  ought  to  be  home  this  minute."  She  started 
«down  the  half-dark  street.  "I'm  not  going  to  listen 
to  things  like  that.  Besides,  it's  after  supper-time 
and  Hedwig  will  be  tired  of  waiting.  You  walk  so 
slow,  John!" 

"All  right."  He  joined  her  and  together  they 
in 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

turned  into  the  Calverton  road,  up  which  at  the  top 
of  the  hill  was  the  home  now  her  own.  "If  you  don't 
want  to  hear  me  Fll  wait  until  later."  He  smiled  in 
the  half-frowning  face.  "You  are  tired,  aren't  you, 
of  my  asking  when  you  are  going  to  marry  me  ?  I'm 
perfectly  willing  to  stop,  but  not  until  you  tell  me." 

"Do  you  think  I'd  marry  anybody  for  years  and 
years  and  YEARS  ?"  She  rolled  the  "years"  out  with 
increasing  emphasis  on  each.  "I  have  just  begun 
to  really  live  here  —  to  start  some  things;  to  get 
used  to  having  a  home  of  my  own;  to  knowing  all 
the  people.  And  then" — she  looked  in  his  face,  in 
dignant  protest  in  her  eyes — "there's  Miss  Gibbie. 
Do  you  think  I  would  go  away  and  leave  her  like  this  ?" 

"It  is  asking  a  good  deal,  I  know."  Out  of  his 
voice  had  dropped  all  lightness  and  in  it  were  quiet 
purpose  and  gravity.  "And  in  asking  it  I  may 
seem  selfish,  yet  I  do  ask  it.  For  ten  years  I  have 
had  but  one  thought,  one  hope,  one  dream,  if  you 
will.  It  took  me  through  college  that  I  might  please 
you;  made  me  settle  down  to  work  at  once  when 
through  with  study;  made  me  hold  all  my  property 
interests  here  because  I  knew  you  loved  the  place. 
But  not  until  two  years  ago  did  I  ask  you  to  marry 
me." 

"What  did  you  ask  me  for  then  ?"  she  interrupted, 
pulling  a  branch  of  a  mock-orange  bush  on  the  side 
of  the  road  and  stripping  it  of  its  leaves.  "We  are 
such  good  friends,  John,  you  and  I.  We  have  always 

112 


JOHN    MAXWELL   AND   MARY    GARY 

been,  and  I  don't  want  you  to  marry  anybody — not 
even  me."  She  turned  to  him,  but  she  did  not  hear 
his  quick,  indrawing  breath.  "I  need  you  too  much, 
John.  You  always  know  the  things  I  don't,  and 
you  unravel  all  the  knots  and  straighten  all  the 
twisted  strings  when  I  get  mixed  up,  but  if  we  got 
married  it  wouldn't  be  the  same  at  all." 

"Why  wouldn't  it?" 

"It  wouldn't."  She  shook  her  head.  "I'd  be 
thinking  just  about  you,  and  that — " 

"Wouldn't  be  bad  for  me."  His  steady  eyes 
looked  into  her  unawakened  ones.  "I  should  ask 
nothing  more  of  life." 

"  But  life  would  ask  something  more  of  me.  Don't 
you  see  it  would  be  just  selfishness.  Mary  mightn't 
mind" — her  forehead  puckered — "Mary  always  was 
self-indulgent,  and  if  Martha  didn't  watch  her — " 
She  threw  the  stripped  twig  away  impetuously.  "I 
am  not  going  to  get  married,  I'm  not.  I  don't  see 
why  men  always  tag  love  in.  Just  as  soon  as  I  get 
to  be  real  friends  with  a  man  and  like  him  just — just 
as  he  is,  he  turns  round  and  spoils  it!  Why  can't 
they  let  love  alone  ?" 

"Love  will  not  let  them  alone,  I  imagine."  He 
looked  down  on  her,  frowning  slightly,  in  his  eyes 
sudden  pain  as  of  fear  for  her. 

"You  are  such  a  child,  Mary.  Many  things  you 
can  be  serious  about.  Love  alone  you  treat  lightly. 
I  don't  understand  you." 

"3 


"And  I  don't  understand  love — the  kind  you 
mean.  And  if  it  is  going  to  make  me  as  cross  and 
huffy  and  injured  as  it  seems  to  do  some  people  I 
don't  want  to  know.  I  thought  love  was  the  hap 
piest  thing  in  life." 

"It  is.     Or  the  unhappiest." 

She  turned.  The  note  in  his  voice  was  new. 
Bitterness  did  not  belong  to  John. 

"Are  you  going  to  do  like  that,  too,  and — be  like 
the  rest?  Why  can't  we  keep  on  in  the  old  way, 
John,  and  be  as  we've  been  so  long  ?  We  were 
happy  and — " 

"Because  I  can't  go  on  in  the  old  way  and  be 
happy.  I  want  you  with  me.  I  need  you.  And 
you — you  need  me,  Mary.  You  are  so  alone  here, 
except  for  Miss  Gibbie,  and  you  know  so  little  of — 
of  so  many  things  in  life.  When  are  you  going  to  be 
my  wife  ?" 

"I  really — do — not — know!"  With  each  word 
was  a  nod.  "I  am  too  busy  to  get  married.  I  don't 
want  a  husband  yet.  He'd  be  so  in  the  way."  She 
looked  at  him,  eyebrows  slightly  raised.  "I  don't 
think  that  expression  on  your  face  suits  you.  And 
if  I've  got  to  look  at  it  all  through  supper  it  won't 
make  things  taste  very  nice.  That  is  one  of  the 
troubles  about  getting  married.  The  foot  of  the 
table  could  be  so  unpleasant!" 

With  a  half  frown,  half  sigh,  he  turned  his  head 
away.  "I  wonder  if  you  will  ever  grow  up  ?  And  I 

114 


JOHN    MAXWELL   AND   MARY    GARY 

wonder,  also,  if  in  all  your  thought  for  others  you  will 
ever  think  of  me  ?" 

He  stood  aside  that  she  might  pass  between  the 
vine-covered  pillars  marking  the  entrance  to  Tree 
Hill,  and  looking  ahead  saw  Hedwig  standing  in  the 
porch. 

"There  is  your  friend  faithful,"  he  said,  and  his 
face  cleared, 


X 


THE    FORGOTTEN    ENGAGEMENT 


EN  minutes  later  they  were  at  the  table 
and  again  alone.  Hedwig  had  left  them, 
and  John,  leaning  forward,  held  out  his 
glass. 

"  More  tea  and  less  ice,  please,"  he  said, 
nodding  between  the  candles  and  over  the 
bowl  of  lilacs  to  the  girl  at  the  head  of  the  table.  "I 
don't  see  why  women  put  so  much  ice  in  these 
queer-shaped  glasses,  anyhow.  All  ice  and  no  tea 
makes — " 

The  glass  he  had  handed  her  came  down  with  a 
crash,  and  Mary  Gary's  hands  were  beaten  together 
in  sudden  excited  dismay. 

"Oh,  my  goodness!  Guess  what  we've  done — 
guess  what  we've  done!"  she  repeated  over  and  over, 
and  now  it  was  her  elbows  with  which  the  table  was 
thumped.  "It  is  your  fault,  John!  You  know  I 
haven't  a  bit  of  memory  about  some  things,  and  you 
ought  to  have  reminded  me!  I  told  you  not  to  let 
me  forget!  You  know  I  told  you!" 

"In  the  name  of  thunderation !"     John  Maxwell 
116 


THE  FORGOTTEN  ENGAGEMENT 

put  down  his  fork  and  pushed  back  his  chair.  "Is 
it  hydrophobia  or  hysterics  or  brain  trouble  or — 
For  the  love  of  mercy — ' 

"What  time  is  it  ?  Do  you  suppose  we  have  time 
to  go  now,  or  is  it  too  late  ?  Why  did  you  let  me 
forget  ?"  And  now,  standing  up,  Mary  Gary  looked 
despairingly  first  at  John  and  then  at  the  clock,  at 
sight  of  which  she  sank  back  limply  in  her  chair. 

"Would  you  mind  telling  me  what  crime  we've 
committed  ?"  John  got  up  and  filled  his  glass  with 
tea. 

"It's  worse  than  a  crime.  It's  a  discourtesy. 
Anybody  might  forgive  any  sort  of  sin,  but  nobody 
forgives  rudeness.  The  council  meeting  will  be 
nothing  to  this." 

"But  what  have  we  done  ?"  John,  still  standing, 
put  one,  two,  three  lumps  of  sugar  in  his  tea.  "I 
thought  you  were  having  a  fit,  and  convulsions  were 
going  to  follow.  You  scared  me  silly.  What's  the 
fuss  about  ?" 

She  leaned  forward  dejectedly,  elbows  on  the 
table,  then  put  her  hand  over  the  sugar-bowl.  "You 
can't  have  four  lumps!  You  know  sweet  things  don't 
suit  you.  We  were  to  take  tea  with  Mrs.  Deford 
to-night.  You  knew  we  were,  and  you  didn't  re 
mind  me.  Sit  down.  You  haven't  a  bit  of  man 
ners." 

"  Good  heavens !  Is  that  what  you've  been  making 
all  this  row  about?  I  thought  something  was  the 

117 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

matter."  He  put  down  the  sugar-tongs,  went  back 
to  his  seat,  and  took  out  his  watch.  "Quarter-past 
eight.  What  time  were  we  to  be  there  ?" 

"Seven  o'clock.  Everybody  has  supper  at  seven 
o'clock  in  Yorkburg." 

"Too  late  now."  He  put  his  watch  back  and 
helped  himself  to  another  piece  of  fried  chicken. 
"Terrible  in  you  to  forget  such  a  thing  as  that! 
Terrible!  But  Fm  much  obliged  to  you  for  doing  it. 
I  was  so  afraid  you'd  remember,  I — " 

Her  hands  dropped  on  the  table  and  she  half  rose. 
"Didn't  you  forget,  too?  John  Maxwell,  do  you 
mean — " 

"I  do.  These  certainly  are  good  rolls."  He 
broke  one  open  and  let  the  steam  escape.  "Mrs. 
McDougal  and  I  have  much  the  same  opinion  of 
Mrs.  Deford,  and  what's  the  use  of  taking  tea  with 
people  you  don't  like  ?  No,  I  didn't  forget,  and  if 
you'd  remembered  and  made  me  go,  I'd  gone.  As 
you  didn't,  I  took  the  part  of  wisdom  and  opened  not 
my  mouth.  Your  lack  of  memory  is  excuse  enough 
for  both.  Can  I  have  some  more  tea  ?  These  glasses 
are  frauds.  I'm  not  going  to  have  glasses  this  shape 
when  I  get  married." 

"  Indeed  you  are !  I  like  this  shape.  I  mean  when 
I  get  married  I'm  always  going  to  use  this  kind." 
She  put  the  glass  down.  "I'm  not  going  to  give  you 
another  drop.  You  didn't  forget  and  you  didn't 
remind  me.  Don't  you  know  what  it  is  going  to 

118 


THE  FORGOTTEN  ENGAGEMENT 

mean  ?  To-morrow  everybody  in  town  will  be  told 
of  my  rude  behavior — and  the  asylum  will  be  blamed 
for  it.  Everything  I  do  wrong  socially  is  attributed 
to  my  childhood's  lack  of  opportunities  for  knowing 
enough,  and  everything  I  do  wrong  in  every  other 
way  is  due  to  my  later  opportunities  for  knowing  too 
much.  Mrs.  Deford  doesn't  like  me,  anyhow,  doesn't 
approve  of  me,  and  this  will  end  us." 

"That  won't  be  bad  for  you.  Do  you  like  Mrs. 
Deford  ?" 

"No,  I  don't.  I  don't  exactly  know  why,  either. 
I  see  very  little  of  her,  and  she  is  polite  enough.  Too 
polite.  She  doesn't  ring  right." 

"Then  what  did  you  accept  her  invitation  to  tea 
for  ?"  He  put  out  his  hand  to  bring  back  the  plate 
Hedwig  was  removing.  "What  have  I  done  that 
my  supper  should  be  taken  from  me  ?  I'm  not 
through." 

"There  some  salad  is  now,  sir."  And  Hedwig 
looked  helplessly  first  at  the  head  and  then  at  the 
foot  of  the  table. 

"Oh,  all  right."  He  waved  her  away.  "I  just 
didn't  want  to  be  held  up."  He  put  his  elbows  on 
the  table,  and  his  chin  on  the  back  of  his  hands  and 
looked  at  the  girl  in  front,  whose  eyes  were  fastened 
indignantly  on  him.  "If  you  don't  like  her  why  did 
you  accept  her  invitation  ?" 

"If  that  isn't  Adamic!  Why  did  /  accept  her  in 
vitation  ?  I  didn't  until  you  had  done  so  first.  You 
9  119 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

said  you'd  come  with  pleasure.     I  thought  you  meant 
it.     You  were  almost  gushing." 

"And  you  were  almost  crushing.  You  were  so  in 
different  I  tried  to  be  polite  enough  for  two.  When  a 
woman  hits  you  in  the  face  with  an  invitation  you 
don't  expect  a  man  to  run,  do  you  ?  I  always  ac 
cept,  but  never  go  if  I  can  manage  to  stay  away. 
And  I  generally  manage.  It  is  purely  automatic, 
written  or  spoken,  this  'Thank  you  so  much.  I  will 
come  with  pleasure/  Some  people  would  say  it  in 
their  sleep  if  waked  suddenly." 

"Some  people  mean  it." 

"I  know  they  do.  It  takes  little  to  give  some 
people  pleasure.  Parties  and  picnics  and  teas,  and 
even  dinners,  with  the  wrong  sort  of  mixtures,  are  the 
breath  of  life  to  certain  types.  But  I  am  like  you, 
I  don't  like  Mrs.  Deford.  She  is  a  friend  of  mother's 
and  visits  her  at  the  blink  of  an  eye.  I  always  have 
business  out  of  the  city  when  she  is  at  the  house. 
She  puts  her  head  on  the  side  when  she  talks.  I  can 
stand  almost  any  kind  of  woman  but  that  kind. 
She's  got  a  tongue,  too,  like  Mrs.  McDougal's  friend, 
one  that  tells  all  it  knows  and  makes  up  what  it 
doesn't.  Why  aren't  you  eating  your  salad  ?" 

She  pushed  back  her  plate  and  reached  for  an  olive 
from  a  dish  near  the  bowl  of  lilacs.  "  I  don't  want 
it.  I  don't  like  asparagus." 

"Then  what  in  the  name  of  heaven  did  you  have 
it  for?" 

120 


"You  like  it.  Do  you  mean  Mrs.  Defbrd  doesn't 
tell  the  truth  ?" 

"That's  what  I  mean.  And  she's  got  a  bad 
memory.  Great  drawback  to  a  good  liar." 

Mary  Gary  sat  suddenly  upright,  her  eyes  like  big 
turquoises,  staring  unbelievingly  at  him. 

"And  you  were  going  to  take  supper  with  her 
to-night;  going  to  sit  at  the  table  with  some  one  you 
knew  was  untruthful  ?  Wanted  me  to  go — " 

"My  dear  Mary — "  He  turned  to  Hedwig,  who 
was  bringing  in  a  bowl  of  raspberries.  "Will  you 
please  get  me  some  tea  from  the  pantry,  Hedwig  ? 
Your  mistress  is  very  stingy  with  tea.  Bring  it  in  a 
pitcher,  will  you  ?  I  have  only  a  glass  thimble  to 
put  it  in,  and  it's  more  convenient  to  have  the  pitcher 
by  my  own  side.  What  were  we  talking  about  ? 
Was  I  going  to  sit  at  the  table  with  some  one  I  knew 
was  untruthful  ?  If  I  didn't  I'd  eat  alone  pretty 
often.  You  may  be  a  learned  lady  in  many  things, 
Miss  Gary,  but  you  still  have  many  things  to  learn. 
One  is  the  infinite  variety  of  liars  there  are  in  life 
and  the  many  assortments  in  which  lies  may  be 
labelled. 

"My  grievance  against  Mrs.  Deford  isn't  merely 
tljiat  she  is  an — exaggerater,  let  us  say,  but  she's  such 
a  lover  of  lucre,  clean  or  not.  She  can  smell  money 
on  the  way,  and  the  chance  of  any  one's  getting  it  is 
sufficient  cause  for  her  cultivation  of  friendship. 
You  don't  want  to  know  her.  It's  better  to  be  polite 

121 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

to  her,  but  she's  a  good  kind  to  let  alone/'  He 
looked  at  his  watch.  "Nine  o'clock.  Well,  some 
thing  has  got  to  be  done.  What's  the  best  fairy-tale 
to  make  up  ?" 

"I'm  not  going  to  make  up  a  fairy-tale."  Mary 
Gary  rose  from  the  table,  and  John  Maxwell,  pushing 
her  chair  aside,  stood  waiting  for  her  to  lead  the  way 
to  the  library.  "I'm  going  to  write  her  a  note  to 
morrow  and  tell  her  we  forgot.  I  didn't  want  to  go, 
but  I  hate  bad  manners.  She  just  asked  me  be 
cause — " 

"She  knew  I  wouldn't  come  without  you  ?  She's 
got  more  sense  than  I  thought.  But  don't  be  silly — 
there  are  few  times  in  life  when  an  untruth  is  justi 
fied,  but  many  times  when  you  don't  have  to  tell  all 
you  know.  What's  to-night,  anyhow  ?" 

"Friday." 

"Are  you  sure  she  didn't  say  Saturday  night? 
Sure  she  said  Friday  ?  Now  I  think  of  it,  seems  to 
me  there  was  something  about  Saturday.  And  was 
it  seven  or  eight  o'clock  ?  If  we  will  just  say,  *  Friday 
or  Saturday?'  'Friday  or  Saturday?'  'Seven  or 
eight?'  'Seven  or  eight?'  over  and  over  some  forty 
or  so  times,  we  won't  know  what  she  said,  and  we 
can  ask  her  to  be  certain.  I'm  going  to  ask  her  now. 
Where's  your  telephone  ?" 

He  rang  up  before  she  could  protest. 

"Hello!  that  Mrs.  Deford  ?"  she  heard  him  say, 
and  as  he  waved  his  right  hand  at  her,  the  left  hold- 

122 


THE  FORGOTTEN  ENGAGEMENT 

ing  the  receiver,  she  dropped  into  a  chair  some  little 
distance  off  and  waited  for  what  was  to  come. 

"How  are  you,  Mrs.  Deford  ?  This  is  John 
Maxwell.  Miss  Gary  and  I  are  having  an  argument 
as  to  your  invitation  to  supper.  Is  it  eight  o'clock 
to-morrow  night?  She  says  seven  o'clock  is  the — 
what?  What's  that?  To-night?  Good  gracious! 
You  say  to-night  was  the  night  and  you  waited  an 
hour?  In  the  name —  Well,  we  must  be  crazy! 
We've  been  talking  for  the  last  thirty  minutes  about 
our  engagement  with  you,  and  I  wasn't  sure  of  the 
hour.  What's  that?  I  don't  wonder  you're  mad. 
It  is  inexcusable,  but  it  was  my  fault.  I'm  entirely 
to  blame,  and  Miss  Gary  will  be  distressed  to  death 
to  hear  of  our  bad  behavior.  You  know  how  par 
ticular  she  is  about  things  of  this  kind  and  never 
breaks  an  engagement.  You  are  going  to  forgive  us, 
aren't  you  ?  Put  it  all  on  me.  It  was  my  fault  en 
tirely.  When  am  I  going  home  ?  Possibly  to 
morrow,  though  I'm  not  sure.  Looking  for  a  tele 
gram.  What?  Oh,  sure  I  am.  Will  certainly  see 
you  before  I  go.  It's  awfully  good  of  you  to  for 
give  us.  Good-night.  Oh  yes,  of  course.  Good 
night." 

,  He  hung  up  the  receiver  and  wiped  his  hands. 
"What's  the  matter  with  that?  A  microscope 
couldn't  find  a  microbe  of  untruth  in  it.  By  this 
time  to-morrow  night  she'll  be  all  right." 

Together  they  walked  out  on  the  porch,  and  in  the 
123 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

damp  night  air  Mary  shivered  slightly,  and  John 
turned  back  into  the  hall  for  half  a  moment. 

"It  is  too  cool  out  here  for  you  with  that  thin 
dress  on/'  he  said,  putting  around  her  a  long  warm 
cape  of  some  soft  white  material.  "Here,  take  this 
chair  and  lean  back  in  it  good.  Are  you  tired  ? 
Too  tired  for  me  to  stay  ?  I'll  go  if  you  want 
me  to." 

His  penetrating  eyes  searched  her  face  with  sud 
den  anxiety.  It  was  the  thing  he  was  always  watch 
ing,  this  look  that  told  of  spent  energy.  There  was 
no  fleeting  shadow  or  hint  of  weariness  he  was  not 
quick  to  understand,  and  to  keep  his  strong  arms  at 
his  side  meant  control  of  which  she  was  as  uncon 
scious  as  a  child. 

"Of  course  I'm  not  tired."  She  lay  back  in  the 
chair  and  put  her  feet  on  the  stool  he  had  placed  for 
her,  drawing  the  cape  over  her  shoulders,  but  leav 
ing  her  throat  open.  "And  smoke,  please.  You'll 
be  so  miserable  if  you  don't.  What  did  she  say  ? 
Was  she  mad  ?" 

John  took  a  seat  on  the  top  step  of  the  porch, 
lighted  his  cigar,  leaned  back  against  the  post,  and 
laughed  in  the  face  opposite  his. 

"Mad?  Hot  as  a  hornet.  But  she'll  cool  off. 
We've  been  walloped  all  right,  though.  Could  tell 
by  her  voice.  What  a  blessed  provision  of  nature 
our  ears  can't  catch  the  things  people  say  about  us. 
I  hope  our  ears  will  never  be  Marconi-ized.  No  two 

124 


THE  FORGOTTEN  ENGAGEMENT 

human  beings  would  be  on  speaking  terms  if  they 
were,  except  you  and  me." 

She  leaned  forward  as  if  something  had  just  oc 
curred  to  her.  "John,  have  you  heard  from  Mr.  Van 
Orm  as  to  when  he  can  begin  the  surveying  of  the 
streets  ?" 

"Yes,  I  have,  but  subjects  don't  have  to  be  changed 
with  a  popgun."  He  blew  out  a  puff  of  smoke  and 
watched  its  soft  spirals  curl  upward.  "I  had  a 
letter  from  him  this  week.  He  will  send  down  two 
men  the  first  of  July." 

"Isn't  he  coming  himself?" 

"Is  he  ?"  John  smoked  in  silence,  looking  ahead 
rather  than  at  the  girl  beside  him,  and  out  of  his  face 
went  all  laughter  and  over  it  a  frown  swept  quickly. 

"I  don't  know.  I  wish  he  was.  The  Traffords 
say  he  is  one  of  the  very  best  civil  engineers  in  the 
country,  and  Yorkburg  doesn't  at  all  understand  how 
fortunate  it  is  to  have  his  men  resurvey  the  town  and 
get  things  in  shape  for  the  curbing  and  paving,  and 
planting  of  trees.  I  am  so  glad  he  was  willing  to 
let  them  do  it.  I  think  it  was  very  nice  in  him." 

No  answer.  John's  eyes  were  straight  ahead. 
Booking  up,  she  saw  his  face  and  suddenly  under 
stood.  For  half  a  moment  she  watched  him,  chin 
down,  eyes  up;  then  she  leaned  back  and  her  fingers 
interlaced. 

"Everybody  says  he  is  such  a  fine  man." 

No  answer. 

125 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

"He  is  certainly  doing  splendid  work.  His  name 
is  at  the  very  head  of  his  profession,  and  he'll  be  rich 
some  day." 

"Rich  now." 

"Do  you  think" — elbows  on  knees  and  chin  in  the 
palms  of  her  hands,  she  leaned  toward  him — "do 
you  think  Mr.  Van  Orm  would  be  a  nice,  man  for  a 
girl  to  marry  ?" 

"I  do  not." 

"I  don't,  either.  I  am  so  glad  you  think  as  I  do." 
She  gave  a  great  sigh,  and  he  looked  up  quickly. 

"You  mean—" 

"I  mean  I  would  just  as  soon  marry  a  cash-register. 
If  he  hadn't  told  you  himself  I  wouldn't  speak  of  it, 
but  I'd  be  crazy  in  a  week  if  I  had  to  live  in  the  house 
with  a  man  like  that.  A  straight  line  is  crooked  to 
him  and  a  plummet  much  more  apt  to  go  wrong.  I 
never  could  understand  how  such  a  correct  person 
could  have  imagined  he  wanted  to — " 

"Marry  you  ?  He  still  expects  to.  He's  the  most 
conceited  ass  in  the  country.  He  can't  take  it  in 
that  you  won't  change  your  mind.  Thinks  it's  be 
cause  you  are  young  that  you  aren't  willing  to  marry 
yet.  Told  me  so  last  month." 

He  looked  toward  her,  then  threw  his  cigar  away. 
"  I  have  thought  a  great  deal  about  the  kind  of  man 
you  ought  to  have  for  a  husband,  Mary,  but  I've 
never  seen  one  good  enough  and  never  but  one  I'd 
be  willing  for  you  to  marry." 

126 


THE  FORGOTTEN  ENGAGEMENT 

"Who  is  that?" 

"John  Maxwell." 

"That  was  very  easy.  Serves  me  right  for  not 
thinking  about  what  I  was  asking."  She  got  up. 
"I  am  tired.  Please  go  home.  And  bring  me  to 
morrow  those  plans  of  Hay  &  Hammond  for  the 
high-school,  will  you  ?  I  like  theirs  best,  though  of 
course  a  committee  is  to  decide."  She  held  out  her 
hand.  "Good-night." 

He  took  it.  "What  terrible  manners  you  have, 
Mary."  Again  he  looked  searchingly  in  her  face, 
and  again  put  the  cape  around  her,  picking  it  up  from 
the  floor,  where  it  had  fallen  from  her  shoulders. 
"Are  you  very  tired  ?  You've  done  too  much  to-day. 
What  time  must  I  come  to-morrow  ?" 

"I  don't  know.  Telephone  about  ten  and  see  if 
I  am  ready  for  you."  She  pressed  the  button,  and,  as 
Hedwig  appeared,  turned  to  her. 

"  Keep  the  light  in  the  porch  until  Mr.  Maxwell 
gets  to  the  gate.  Good-night,  John,"  and  with  a  nod 
she  turned  and  left  him. 


XI 


M 


A    DAY    OF    ENTERTAINMENT 

ISS  GIBBIE  pressed  the  bell  on  her  writ 
ing-table  four  times.  Four  rings  were  for 
the  cook.  They  were  rarely  sounded,  and 
therefore  caused  not  only  sudden  cessation 
of  work  in  the  kitchen,  but  instant  specula 
tion  as  to  what  was  wanted  and  what  was 
wrong.  Hearing  them  now,  Tildy  reached  hastily 
for  her  clean  apron  and  hurried  up-stairs. 

Ordinarily  orders  for  the  kitchen  came  through 
Miss  Jane,  the  housekeeper,  whose  mother  before 
her  had  kept  the  keys  of  the  Gault  house  from  the 
day  of  Mrs.  Gault's  death  to  her  own.  When  a 
direct  order  was  given,  or  direct  questions  were  asked, 
by  Miss  Gibbie,  there  were  reasons  for  it  which 
usually  served  for  conversational  material  in  the 
servants'  quarters  later  on. 

Tildy  stood  before  her  mistress,  hands  clasped  in 
front  under  her  full  blue-and-white  check  gingham 
apron,  and  feet  wide  apart. 

"  How  you  do  this  mornin',  Miss  Gibbie  ?"  she 
asked,  curtseying  in  a  manner  known  only  to  herself. 

128 


A   DAY    OF   ENTERTAINMENT 

"  I  ain't  seen  how  you  was  for  mos'  a  month,  and  I 
certainly  is  glad  to  look  on  you  for  myself;  I  certainly 
is.  That  lazy  nigger  Ceely  is  gittin'  so  airy  and 
set  up,  'count  o*  bein'  parlor-maid,  that  she  thinks 
it's  belowerin*  of  herself  to  talk  to  the  kitchen  about 
how  things  up-stairs  is,  less'n  we  have  company,  and  I 
don't  ax  her  nothin',  that  I  don't.  I  hope  you's  feel- 
in'  as  peart  as  a  young  duck  after  a  good  rain,  this 
mornin'.  You  look  like  it.  Ain't  never  seen  any 
body  wear  better  than  you  do,  that  I  ain't!"  And 
Tildy  looked  admiringly  at  the  lady  before  her. 

"And  there  never  was  anybody  who  could  waste 
words  like  you  do.  If  you  don't  stop  eating  all  that 
sweet  stuff  they  tell  me  you  live  on  you'll  be  dead 
before  you're  ready  for  judgment,  and  too  fat  to  get 
through  gates  of  any  kind.  I  want  to  know  about  the 
things  for  lunch.  Is  your  part  all  right  ?" 

"Yes,  ma'am!  And  the  only  things  fittin'  to  eat, 
cordin'  to  my  thinkin',  is  what's  been  made  right 
here.  All  that  truck  what's  come  from  Washington 
is  just  slops,  and,  if  you  mark  me,  you'll  be  dead  if 
it's  et.  I  got  too  much  respect  for  my  insides  to  put 
things  in  me  what  looks  like  them  things  Miss  Jane's 
been  unwrappin'  all  the  mornin'.  And  I  tell  you 
Vight  now,  Miss  Gibbie,  you  better  not  be  puttin'  of 
'em  in  you.  They's  flauntin'  plum  in  the  face  of 
Providence.  My  stomach — " 

"Is  not  to  have  a  taste.  And  mine  can  take  care 
of  itself.  I  sent  for  you  to  tell  you  I  want  vegetable 

129 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

soup  for  dinner  to-night,  thick  and  greasy.  The 
fish  must  be  cold  and  no  sauce,  the  goose  half  done, 
ham  raw,  vegetables  unseasoned,  rice  pudding  with 
no  sugar,  bread  burnt,  and  coffee  weak  as  water. 
If  you  see  that  this  is  done  I  will  give  you  five  dollars 
to-morrow.  If  anything  is  fit  to  eat  you  don't  get  a 
cent." 

"Jehosaphat  hisself!"  Tildy's  hands  went  up 
under  the  apron  and  the  latter  fell  backward  over  her 
head.  For  a  moment  she  rocked,  then  threw  the 
apron  off  her  face  and  dropped  in  a  chair  opposite 
Miss  Gibbie,  head  protruding  terrapin  -  wise,  and 
eyes  bulging. 

"Now  what  in  the  name  of — " 

Miss  Gibbie  nodded  toward  her.  "Did  you  un 
derstand  what  I  said  ?" 

"Yes,  ma'am,  I  understand.  That  is,  I  heared 
it."  Tildy's  head  was  shaken  from  side  to  side. 
"But  'tain't  Gault  doin's  to  put  high  -  falutin', 
Frenchified,  crocheted-rosette  food  before  some  folks 
what  ain't  used  to  it,  and  field-hand  grub  before 
them  what's  the  airiest  in  town.  Ain't  nothin'  like 
that  ever  been  done  in  this  house,  what's  been  known 
for  its  feed  for  fifty  years,  and  I  don't  believe  your 
pa  would  like  it,  that  I  don't.  But — ' 

"A  man  was  once  hung  for  not  minding  his  busi 
ness,  Tildy.  Ever  hear  of  him  ?  Now  you  go  right 
straight  along  back  to  the  kitchen  and  see  that  what 
I  want  done  is  done.  For  the  lunch  you  must  do 

130 


A  DAY   OF   ENTERTAINMENT 

your  best.  Things  are  to  be  as  good  at  that  as  they 
are  bad  for  dinner  to-night.  Are  you  sure  you  un 
derstand  ?" 

"Yes'm.     I  hear  you.     And  that  five  dollars — " 

Miss  Gibbie  waved  her  out.  "Depends  entirely 
on  yourself.  Not  a  penny  unless  I  am  satisfied. 
You  understand  that,  too,  don't  you  ?" 

"I  does  that/'  Tildy's  chuckle  was  heard  down 
the  hall,  and  again  Miss  Gibbie  pressed  the  bell  on 
the  table.  Three  rings  were  sounded  this  time,  and 
Jackson,  hearing  his  signal,  hurried  to  her  sitting- 
room,  and  at  the  open  door  stood  waiting  until  she 
was  ready  to  speak. 

"At  lunch  to-day,"  she  said,  not  looking  up  from 
the  desk  at  which  she  was  writing,  "you  had  better 
have  both  dry  and  sweet  wine.  Sherry,  too,  if  any 
one  wishes  it.  I  don't  think  the  ladies  take  wine  for 
lunch,  and  I  don't  know  the  kind  they  care  for.  But 
have  it  out  and  begin  with  Sauterne." 

Jackson  bowed.  "Yes'm,"  he  said,  and  waited. 
Miss  Gibbie's  writing  continued,  and  after  a  moment 
Jackson  put  his  hand  to  his  mouth  and  coughed. 

"To-night,"  he  said,  "just  champagne  or — " 

"  Just  nothing.  Not  a  drop  of  anything.  If  any 
body  wants  water  they  can  have  it,  but  not  even 
water  out  of  a  bottle." 

"Nothin*  in  the  gent'men's  room  up -stairs?" 
Jackson  stopped  and  stepped  backward  into  the  hall. 
Miss  Gibbie  was  looking  at  him. 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

"You  can  go,  Jackson.  Nothing  to  drink  any 
where,  and  no  cigars.  Wait  a  minute!  For  every 
mistake  you  make  to-night  there  is  fifty  cents,  but 
there  mustn't  be  more  than  ten.  No  discourtesy  of 
course — just  blunders.  Am  I  understood  ?" 

Jackson  bowed  again.  "Yes'm,  you  is  under 
stood/*  And  as  he  went  softly  down  the  steps  he 
wiped  his  forehead  and  twisted  his  handkerchief  into 
double  and  single  knots  in  an  effort  to  unravel  a 
puzzle  whose  purpose  was  beyond  guessing. 

Out  on  the  lawn  as  he  cut  and  trimmed  bush  after 
bush  of  old-fashioned  flowers,  wheeling  his  barrow 
from  place  to  place,  and  gathering  up  the  clipped 
twigs  and  branches,  he  talked  slowly  to  himself,  and 
presently  his  brow  cleared  and  the  weight  of  respon 
sibility  lifted. 

"Tain't  my  doin's,"  he  said  presently.  "And 
'tain't  my  business  to  tell  other  people  how  cracky 
some  of  their  doin's  look  to  onlookers.  But  it  beat  me 
that  this  heah  kind  o'  dinner  is  a  goin*  to  be  give 
white  folks  in  Mars  Judge  Gault's  house.  Ain't  never 
seen  such  eatin's  anywhere  as  ladies  and  gent'men 
have  sot  down  to  in  his  day,  and  to  think  what  Miss 
Gibbie  is  agoin*  to  do  to-night  is  enough  to  make 
him  grunt  in  glory.  That  'tis.  I  often  wonder  how 
he  gits  along,  anyhow,  without  his  juleps. 

"But  there's  a  reason  for  what  she's  a  doin'."  He 
looked  critically  at  the  branch  of  pomegranates  in  his 
hand,  then  let  it  fly  back  to  its  place  near  the  top 

132 


A   DAY   OF   ENTERTAINMENT 

of  the  bush.  "You  can  bet  your  best  shoe-strings 
there's  a  reason,  but  in  all  Gord's  world  there  ain't 
nobody  but  her  would  act  on  it.  I  wonder  if  Miss 
Mary  Gary  knows  about  it  ?  She  ain't  agoin'  to  be 
here,  and  I  bet  Miss  Gibbie  ain't  told  her  what's  in 
her  mind.  She  sho'  do  love  her,  though,  Miss  Gibbie 
do.  But  Miss  Gibbie's  bound  to  let  out  every  now 
and  then  and  be  Miss  Gibbie-ish,  and  you  mark  me 
if  this  heah  dcin's  to-day  ain't  a-lettin'  out/* 

Through  the  open  window  he  heard  two  rings  of 
a  bell — the  housekeeper's  signal — and,  with  a  glance 
upward  and  a  soft  chuckle,  he  carted  his  wheel 
barrow  behind  the  stables,  then  went  into  the  house 
to  make  ready  for  lunch. 

In  her  room  Miss  Gibbie  pushed  pen  and  paper 
aside.  "Well,  Jane,"  she  said,  "is  everything 
ready?" 

"Everything.  You  are  coming  down  to  see  the 
table  before  the  ladies  come,  aren't  you  ?  I  never 
saw  anything  so  beau-ti-ful  in  all  my  life !" 

"Oh  yes  you  have.  What  did  I  send  you  to  New 
York  for,  make  you  go  to  the  best  hotels  and  have 
you  look  into  table  arrangements  and  menus  and 
things  of  that  kind  if  you  are  to  come  back  here  and 
1  think  a  Yorkburg  table  is  the  most  leau-ti-ful  you 
ever  saw  ?"  She  mimicked  Jane's  emphasis  of 
beautiful,  then  got  up  and  stretched  out  her  arms. 
"I'm  getting  as  stiff  as  a  stick.  Well,  come  on. 
Let's  go  down  and  see  this  French  feast.  Yorkburg 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

hasn't  had  anything  new  to  talk  about  since  the 
council  meeting.  Some  unknown  dishes  will  help 
them  out  for  a  day  or  two.  If  anybody  stays  later 
than  three  o'clock  set  the  house  on  fire — do  anything 
to  make  them  go  home.  There  must  be  time  to  rest 
before  the  next  invasion.  You  see  that  I  get  it!" 

She  walked  slowly  down  the  steps  into  the  dining- 
room,  and  as  she  entered  it  she  stopped  in  surprise, 
then  went  closer  to  the  table.  For  a  moment  she 
stood  with  her  hands  upon  it,  then  walked  around, 
viewing  it  from  one  side  and  then  the  other,  and  as 
she  finished  her  survey  she  looked  up. 

"Mary  Gary  did  this,  I  suppose  ?" 

"Yes'm,  she  did.  She  wouldn't  let  me  tell  you 
she  was  down  here.  Said  she  knew  I  had  so  much 
to  do,  she  just  ran  in  to  help  fix  the  table.  Did  you 
ever  see  anything  as  lovely  as  that  basket  of  lilies 
of  the  valley  and  mignonette  ?  They  look  like 
they're  nodding  and  peeping  at  you,  and  these  little 
vases  of  them  in  between  the  candlesticks  are  just 
to  fill  in,  she  says.  She  brought  her  candle-shades 
because  she  didn't  think  you  had  any  to  go  with 
lilies  of  the  valley  and  mignonette.  These  came 
from  Paris  and  were  very  cheap,  she  says;  but  ain't 
they  the  prettiest  things!  These  mats  are  the  finest 
Cluny  she's  ever  seen,  she  told  me.  I  don't  see  how 
she  can  remember  so  many  different  kinds  of  lace. 
I  hope  I  won't  forget  to  close  the  shutters  and  light 
the  candles.  She  didn't  want  to  put  the  candle- 

134 


A   DAY   OF   ENTERTAINMENT 

sticks  on  the  table;  said  they  were  for  to-night,  and 
she  thought  it  was  nicer  to  have  daylight  and  air 
than  lighted  candles  and  dimness.  But  I  read  in  a 
fashion  magazine  that  candles  were  always  used  in 
high  society  these  days,  though  not  of  course  where 
people  do  natural  things,  and  I  begged  her  to  let  them 
stay  on.  She  did,  but  she  said  you  must  decide." 

"Shut  up,  Jane!  You're  such  a  fool!  Your 
tongue  and  Mrs.  McDougal's,  as  she  says,  are  two  of 
a  pair,  and,  once  started,  never  stop.  I'll  do  some 
things  for  some  people,  but  I  perspire  for  nobody. 
This  is  the  latest  spring  and  the  hottest  May  I've  ever 
known,  and  if  those  shutters  were  closed  there'd  be 
trouble.  The  second  generation  uses  candles  in  the 
daytime  at  a  sitting  -  down  lunch.  This  house  is 
over  a  hundred  years  old.  Take  them  off!" 

She  waved  her  hand  toward  the  table,  then  looked 
around  the  large  high-ceilinged  room,  with  its  wain 
scoting  of  mahogany,  its  massive  old-fashioned  furni 
ture,  its  portraits  of  her  great  and  great-great-grand 
parents  on  the  walls,  the  mirror  over  the  mantel,  the 
heavy  red  velvet  hangings  over  the  curtains  at  the 
long  windows,  the  old-patterned  silver  on  the  side 
board,  the  glass  and  china  in  the  presses,  and  again 
'•'she  waved  her  hand.  This  time  with  a  wide,  inclu 
sive  sweep. 

"Next  week  this  room  must  be  put  in  its  summer 
clothes.  Red  in  warm  weather  has  an  enraging 
quality  that  is  unendurable."  She  turned  toward 

10  135 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

the  door.  "You've  done  very  well,  Jane.  I  want 
lunch  promptly,  and,  remember,  things  to-night  must 
be  as  plain  as  they  are  pretty  this  morning.  Did 
everything  come  all  right?'* 

"Everything.  Mickleton  always  sends  beautiful 
things.  I  know  the  ladies  never  ate  anything  like 
them." 

But  Miss  Gibbie  did  not  hear.  Again  in  her 
room  she  rang  once  more.  This  time  but  once  the 
bell  was  pressed,  and  almost  instantly  her  maid  was 
at  her  side. 

At  her  dressing-table  Miss  Gibbie  turned.  "Get 
out  that  light-gray  satin  gown  with  the  rose-point  lace 
in  the  sleeves,"  she  said,  "and  the  stockings  and 

*  o 

slippers  to  match  it.  To-night  I  want  that  old  black 
silk,  the  oldest  one.  When  the  ladies  come  tell 
Celia  to  show  them  up-stairs  in  the  front  room  if  they 
wish  to  come  up.  You  will  be  up  there.  And  keep 
my  door  closed.  To-night  do  the  same  thing,  only 
see  that  my  door  is  locked  to-night.  If  it  isn't,  Puss 
Jenkins  will  lose  her  way  in  there  trying  to  find  it. 
What  time  is  it  ?" 

"Quarter  to  twelve." 

"I'll  be  down-stairs  at  one-twenty.  Lunch  is  at 
one-thirty.  Some  will  get  here  by  one  o'clock. 
Show  them  the  drawing-room  if  there  are  signs  of 
wandering  round  the  house.  You  can  go!" 

Emmeline  closed  the  door  noiselessly,  and  Miss 
Gibbie,  left  alone,  put  down  the  pearl  breast-pin 

136 


A   DAY   OF   ENTERTAINMENT 

she  had  been  holding  and  took  her  seat  in  the  chintz- 
covered  chair,  with  its  gay  peacocks  and  poppies,  and 
put  her  feet  on  the  footstool  in  front.  In  the  mirror 
over  the  mantel  she  nodded  at  herself. 

"I  wonder  what  makes  you  such  a  contrarious 
person,  Gibbie  Gault?  Wonder  why  you  will  do 
things  that  make  people  say  mean  things  about  you  ? 
But  that's  giving  people  pleasure,,  Some  people 
would  rather  hear  something  mean  about  other 
people,  especially  if  they're  prosperous,  than  listen  to 
the  greatest  opera  ever  sung.  Not  all  people,  but 
even  good  people,  slow  at  everything  else,  are  quick 
to  believe  ugly  things  of  others.  Isn't  it  a  pity  there 
can't  be  a  little  more  love  and  charity  in  this  world,  a 
little  more  confidence  and  trust?" 

She  unfastened  the  belt  at  her  Waist  and  threw  it 
on  the  table.  "  Mary  says  there's  more  of  it  than  I 
know,  and  maybe  there  is — maybe  there  is!  But 
won't  Benny  Brickhouse  be  raging  when  he  leaves 
here  to-night!  He's  been  smacking  his  lips  and 
patting  his  stomach  all  day  over  the  thought  of  a 
Gault  dinner.  I  know  he  has.  Terrapin  and  canvas- 
backs,  champagne,  and  Nesselrode  pudding  are  all 
a  jumble  in  his  mind  this  minute.  And  to  give  him 
./egetable  soup  and  ham  and  cabbage  and  half- 
cooked  goose!"  She  beat  the  arm  of  her  chair  and 
screwed  her  eyes  tight  in  anticipation  of  his  disap 
pointment,  then  again  nodded  to  the  face  in  the 
mirror. 

137 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

"Next  time,  Mr.  Benjamin  Brickhouse,  you  will 
probably  be  more  careful  how  you  talk  of  ladies. 
Miss  Gibbie  Gault  is  a  stingy  old  cat,  is  she  ?  She's 
too  free  in  her  speech  for  you,  talks  too  plainly,  is  a 
dangerous  old  woman  with  advanced  views,  is  she  ? 
And  she  oughtn't  to  have  let  a  young  girl  like  Mary 
Gary  go  before  a  lot  of  men  and  talk  as  she  talked 
last  Monday  night  in  the  council  chamber,  ought 
she  ?  But  she  knows  how  to  give  a  good  dinner  all 
right.  You'll  give  her  credit  for  that.  The  trouble 
with  people  who  make  remarks  about  cats  is  they 
forget  cats  have  claws,  and  the  trouble  with  Mr. 
Benjamin  Brickhouse  is  he  made  his  remarks  to 
Puss  Jenkins.  Percolator  Puss  can't  keep  from  tell 
ing  her  own  age,  and  a  woman  who  does  that  who's 
still  hoping  isn't  responsible  for  the  words  of  her 
mouth. 

"And  Snobby  Deford  will  be  here,  too.  She  has 
heard  I  entertained  lords  and  ladies  in  London  and 
is  anxious  to  see  how  I  do  it.  I'll  show  her  how  I 
don't.  I'm  an  old  crank  who  tries  to  ride  rough-shod 
over  everybody,  she  says,  and  I  spend  much  too  much 
money  on  my  table;  but  if  I  do  it  she  don't  mind 
eating  my  good  things.  Don't  she  ?  Well,  she'l? 
get  a  chance  to-night.  In  Miss  Patty  Moore's  mil 
linery  store  she  threw  these  posies  at  me,  and  Annie 
Steele  caught  them.  Assenting  Annie  didn't  throw 
any  back,  as  Annie  is  merely  an  assenter,  but  neither 
of  the  honorable  ladies  who  were  coming  to  break  my 

138 


A   DAY   OF   ENTERTAINMENT 

bread  knew  that  Susie  McDougal's  ears  were  hearing 
ears.  Susie  says  pompous  -  class  people  often  act 
as  if  plainer-class  ones  weren't  made  of  flesh  and 
blood. 

"And  Mrs.  Deford  thinks,  with  Mr.  Brickhouse, 
that  there's  to  be  champagne  to-night.  She  is  fond 
of  cocktails  and  champagne — things  I  prefer  women 
not  to  care  for — but  she  will  get  neither  here.  A 
mistake  never  escapes  her  eagle  eye,  and  the  use  of 
the  wrong  knife  or  fork  is  a  shuddering  crime.  If 
Jackson  would  drop  one  or  the  other  down  the  back 
of  that  very  low-neck  dress  she  wears  so  much  I'd 
give  him  an  extra  dollar.  I  don't  suppose  I  ought 
to  mention  it  but" — she  took  up  a  piece  of  paper  on 
the  table  at  her  side  and  examined  it  carefully — "if 
it  could  be  arranged — "  She  waved  the  paper  in 
the  air.  "Now  that  is  as  good  and  wholesome  a 
bunch  of  women  as  are  on  earth!  And  they  aren't 
stupid,  either.  Pity  so  many  good  people  are  dull!" 

Again  she  examined  the  paper,  reading  the  names 
aloud:  "Mrs.  Corbin,  Mrs.  Moon, Mrs.  Tate — Buzzie 
isn't  the  brainiest  person  in  the  world,  but  one  of  the 
funniest — Mrs.  Tazewell,  Mrs.  Burnham — I  like  that 
young  woman,  she's  got  sense — Miss  Matoaca 
Brockenborough,  Miss  Mittie  Muncaster,  and  Miss 

O      7 

Amelia  Taylor.  I'm  the  fourth  spinster.  For  a 
place  the  size  of  Yorkburg  that's  an  excellent  group 
of  women,  though  they  don't  speak  French  or  wear 
Parisian  clothes.  Mittie  Muncaster  says  she  makes 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

all  of  hers  without  a  pattern,  and  they  look  it,  but,  as 
women  go,  they're  above  the  average." 

She  took  up  another  slip  of  paper  and  glanced  over 
it:  "Mr.  and  Mrs.  Porter,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Steele,  Mr. 
James  and  Miss  Puss  Jenkins,  Mr.  Brickhouse  and 
Mrs.  Deford,  Judge  Lynn  and  myself.  As  light  a 
lot  of  timber  as  ever  sat  down  to  soup.  They  haven't 
left  a  leg  for  Mary  Gary  to  stand  on  since  her  talk 
before  the  council,  and  yet,  on  the  whole,  I  haven't 
heard  as  much  about  it  as  I  expected.  That  little 
piece  of  information  concerning  her  English  grand 
father  was  efficacious.  That  her  father  was  an  un 
known  actor  has  long  been  a  source  of  satisfaction  to 
certain  Yorkburgers,  and  to  learn  that  his  blood  was 
not  only  Bohemian  but  blue,  and  worse  still,  distin 
guished,  was  hard  on  them. 

"Yes" — she  tapped  the  table  with  the  tips  of  her 
fingers — "  I  was  sorry  it  was  best  to  mention  Mary's 
English  relations,  but  it  was.  As  long  as  people  are 
weighed  and  measured  according  to  what  they  come 
from  rather  than  what  they  are  it  is  at  times  neces 
sary  to  state  a  few  facts  of  family  history.  Stock 
rises  or  falls  according  to  reports.  Some  mouths 
have  to  be  treated  and  the  sort  of  salve  one  uses  de 
pends  upon  the  sores.  Not  yet  can  a  person  be  taken 
3t  face  value.  Ancestor-worship  isn't  all  Chinese. 
An  ill-bred  gentleman-born  is  still  welcomed  where 
an  ill-born  well-bred  man  is  not  invited.  Queer 
place,  this  little  planet  in  which  we  swing  through 

140 


A  DAY   OF   ENTERTAINMENT 

space,  Gibbie  Gault,  and  nothing  in  it  queerer  than 
you.  A  million  or  two  years  from  now  we  may  see 
clearly,  approach  sense  and  civilization,  and  in  the 
mean  time  you  get  up  and  dress  yourself  so  as  to  be 
ready  for  your  guests  1" 


XII 


THE    BARGAIN 


HE  held  out  her  hand.     "How  do  you  do? 
Where  is  Mary  this  afternoon  ?     Sit  down 
and  stop  staring  at  me  like  that.     Fm  no 
n  II  IN  Chinese  idol.      If  I   choose   to   put  on   a 
VMS'     mandarin  coat  and  sit  on  my  front  porch, 

whose  business  is  it  but  mine  ?" 
"Nobody's,  madam!"  John  Maxwell  bent  over 
and  shook  Miss  Gibbie's  hand  vigorously.  "You 
are  indeed  no  Chinese  idol.  But  in  such  gorgeous- 
ness  you  might  be  twin  sister  to  that  fearless  lady  of 
long  finger-nails  and  no  soul,  the  Do-wagger  Empress 
of  China,  as  Mrs.  McDougal  called  her.  She  was 
a  woman  of  might  and  a  born  boss.  I  understand  you 
are  letting  the  people  of  this  town  know  you  are  living 
here  again.  I've  come  to  hear  about  the  parties." 

He  drew  a  chair  close  to  Miss  Gibbie's,  and  took 
from  her  lap  the  turkey-wing  fan.  "That's  a  fine 
coat  you've  got  on.  Did  you  wear  that  yesterday  ?" 
"  I  did  not.  Too  hot.  And  then  Annie  Steele  has 
such  poppy  eyes  they  might  have  fallen  in  her 
soup-plate  had  I  put  it  on,  and  her  husband  can't 

142 


THE    BARGAIN 

stand  any  more  expense  from  Annie.  She's  the  kind 
of  wife  who  cries  for  what  it  wants,  and  he's  the  kind 
of  husband  who  gives  in  to  tears.  But  they're 
happy.  Neither  one  has  any  sense.  Where's 
Mary?" 

"I  don't  know.  Seeing  something  about  a  party 
she  is  going  to  give  the  orphan-asylum  children  on 
her  birthday,  I  believe.  Some  time  off  yet,  but  she's 
always  ahead  of  time.  I  went  by  Mrs.  Moon's  this 
morning,  and  several  of  the  lunchers  came  in  and  told 
of  the  war-whoops  of  the  diners.  Best  show  I've 
been  to  in  years.  From  their  reports  I  thought  I'd 
better  come  up  and  see  if  there  were  any  scraps  of 
you  left." 

"I'm  all  here."  Miss  Gibbie  took  the  fan  from 
his  hand  and  began  to  use  it;  then  threw  back  her 
head  and  laughed  until  the  keen  gray  eyes  were  full 
of  tears.  "Wasn't  it  mean  of  me  ?  Wasn't  it  mean 
to  invite  people  to  your  house  and  not  have  for  them 
one  single  thing  worth  eating,  especially  when  they 
had  come  for  the  sole  purpose  of  enjoying  a  good 
dinner,  and  finding  out  whether  or  not  I  followed  the 
traditions  of  my  fathers  ?  What  does  Mary  think 
about  it  ?" 

gm 

John  bent  over,  hands  clasped  loosely  between  his 
knees.  "Pretty  rough.  She  is  particular  about  who 
she  invites  to  her  house,  but,  having  invited  them, 
she—" 

"Treats  them  properly.  Very  correct.  Mary  is 
'43 


young  and  life  is  before  her.  I  am  old  and  going  to 
do  as  I  choose." 

"But  why  do  you  ask  people  of  that  kind  to  your 
house  ?  If  you  don't  admire  them — " 

"What  nonsense!"  Miss  Gibbie's  chin  tilted  and 
she  looked  at  John  with  an  eye  at  an  angle  that  only 
Miss  Gibbie  could  attain.  "When  one  gives  formal 
dinner-parties  people  are  usually  invited  for  a  pur 
pose  not  pleasure.  I  have  known  my  guests  of  last 
night  for  many  years.  'Tis  true  I've  seen  little  of 
them  for  the  past  twenty,  but  I'm  back  here  to  live, 
and  it  was  necessary  they  should  understand  certain 
things  they  didn't  seem  to  be  taking  in.  They're 
a  bunch  of  bulldozers  and  imagine  others  are  in  awe 
of  them — socially,  I  mean.  In  all  their  heads  to 
gether  there  aren't  brains  enough  to  make  anything 
but  trouble,  but  empty  heads  and  idle  hands  are 
dangerous,  and  kings  can  be  killed  by  cats.  Don't 
you  see  this  town  is  dividing  itself  into  factions  ? 
Already  one  element  is  arraying  itself  against  the 
other,  and  Mary  Gary  is  the  cause  of  it.  It  was  time 
to  let  the  opposing  element  understand  I  understood 
the  situation;  also  that  I  had  heard  certain  remarks 
it  had  pleased  them  to  make;  also, again, that  I  am  not 
as  extravagant  as  they  had  been  told.  A  good,  plain 
table  is  what  I  keep — only  last  night  it  wasn't  good. 
You  should  have  seen  it!" 

Miss  Gibbie  leaned  back  in  her  chair  and  fanned 
with  wide,  deliberate  strokes.  "I  fixed  the  flowers. 

144 


THE  BARGAIN 

They  were  sunflowers  fringed  with  honeysuckle  in  a 
blue  glass  pitcher  —  colonial  colors  as  befitted  my 
ancestried  guests.  The  pitcher  was  Tildy's.  My 
dear" — she  tapped  John's  knee  with  the  tip  of  her 
fan — "don't  bother  about  them.  You  can't  make 
some  people  mad.  As  long  as  they  think  I  have 
money  they  won't  cut  my  acquaintance.  They'll 
abuse  me,  yes.  Everybody  is  abused  who  can't  be 
used;  but  they'll  come  to  the  next  party  if 
it's  given  to  a  celebrity  and  there's  the  promise  of 
champagne.  Of  course  last  night  I  couldn't  say  all 
the  things  I  wanted  to  say;  that's  the  disadvantage 
of  being  a  hostess,  but  I  think  they  understand  Mary 
Gary  is  a  friend  of  mine.  Mary  doesn't  approve  of  my 
methods.  Sorry,  but  methods  depend  upon  the  kind 
of  people  with  whom  you  have  to  deal.  Love  is  lost 
on  some  natures,  and  certain  individuals  use  weapons 
she  doesn't  touch.  Anybody  can  stab  in  the  back; 
it  takes  an  honest  person  to  fight  fair,  and  a  strictly 
honest  person  is  as  rare  as  one  with  good  manners. 
All  Mrs.  Deford  wants  is  the  chance  to  stab.  But 
what  about  the  lunch  ?  Was  that  abused,  too  ?" 

"Not  on  your  life!  Didn't  you  say  you  had  some 
•cigars  around  here  ?  I've  used  all  of  mine  and  can't 
get  your  kind  in  town."  He  got  up  and  started  in 
doors.  "As  I  order  the  kind  you  keep  for  company, 
I  don't  mind  smoking  them.  May  I  have  one  ?" 

She  waved  her  fan.  "In  the  library  behind  the 
Brittanica.  Keep  them  there  to  save  Jackson  from 

145 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

the  sin  of  smoking  them.  Best  darky  on  earth,  but 
helping  himself  isn't  stealing,  of  course.  What  did 
they  say  about  the  lunch  ?" 

John  lighted  his  cigar  and  took  a  good  whiff. 
"You're  a  sensible  woman,  Miss  Gibbie,  to  let  a 
fellow  smoke  a  thing  like  that.  It  begets  love  and 
charity.  What  did  they  say  about  the  lunch  ?  Let 
me  see:  Most  beautiful  thing  ever  seen  in  Yorkburg, 
most  delicious  things  to  eat,  most  of  them  never 
tasted  or  heard  of  before;  perfect  service,  exquisite 
lace  table-cloth  or  lace  something,  patriarchal  silver, 
ancestral  china,  French  food,  table  a  picture,  you 
another.  Said  you  looked  like  a  duchess  in  that  old- 
fashioned  gray  satin  gown.  Mrs.  Tate  declared 
anybody  could  tell  you  were  a  lady  the  minute  they 
saw  your  feet,  even  if  they  didn't  know  who  you  were, 
but  Mrs.  Burnham  thought  it  was  your  hands  that 
gave  you  away.  Your  hands  are  rather  remarkable." 

John  patted  the  latter,  then  flicked  the  ashes  from 
his  cigar.  "  I  didn't  tell  them,  but  I  could  have  done 
so,  that  it  wasn't  an  idiosyncrasy,  but  sense,  that  made 
you  wear  elbow  sleeves  all  the  time.  An  arm  and 
wrist  and  hand  like  yours  have  no  right  to  be  hidden." 

"  Nonsense,  nonsense !"  Again  the  fan  was  waved, 
but  Miss  Gibbie's  lips  twitched.  "Vanity  in  a 
woman  of  my  age  is  past  pardon.  I  don't  like  any 
thing  to  touch  my  wrist,  and  sleeves  are  in  the  way. 
Tell  me" — she  leaned  toward  him — "is  Mary  wor 
ried  with  me  ?" 

146 


THE   BARGAIN 

"Not  that  I  know  of.  I  have  scarcely  seen  her  for 
two  days.  She's  been  having  so  many  committee 
meetings,  and  so  many  people  have  been  after  her 
for  this  and  for  that,  and  some  sick  child  at  the 
asylum  had  to  be  visited  so  often,  that  except  in  the 
evenings  I  have  hardly  had  time  to  speak  to  her. 
And  then  she  is  so  tired  I  don't  like  to  keep  her  up. 
She  can't  stand  this  sort  of  thing,  Miss  Gibbie.  It 
will  wear  her  out,  and  it  ought  to  be  stopped."  He 
got  out  of  his  chair  and  began  to  walk  up  and  down 
the  porch,  one  hand  in  his  pocket,  the  other  holding 
his  cigar.  "It's  got  to  be  stopped." 

"Who  is  going  to  stop  it  ?" 

"I  know  who'd  like  to  stop  it."  He  stood  in  front 
of  her.  "Aren't  you  going  to  help  me,  Miss  Gibbie  ?" 

"I  am  not."  She  looked  up  into  the  strong  face 
now  suddenly  serious.  "I  mean  in  the  way  you 
mean.  I  am  going  to  keep  her  from  wearing  herself 
out,  but  she  is  not  doing  that.  Hedwig  takes  care  of 
her  and  sees  that  she  gets  proper  food  and  rest  and 
is  spared  a  thousand  things  other  women  have  to  con 
tend  with.  And  it  doesn't  hurt  anybody  to  be  busy. 
If  you  don't  think  about  something  else  you  think 
about  yourself,  and  the  most  ruinous  of  all  germs  is 
the  ego  germ.  She  isn't  likely  to  be  attacked,  for  she 
has  good  resistance,  but  it's  in  the  air,  and  I  don't 
want  her  to  get  it.  She  is  very  happy." 

"Is  she?" 

"Why  not?     Isn't  she  leading  the  life  she  wants 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

to  lead  ?  She  has  a  passion  for  service.  She  has  a 
home  of  her  own,  simple,  but  complete;  is  earning  an 
income  sufficient  to  take  care  of  herself,  and  has, 
besides,  a  little  money,  every  cent  of  which  she  gives 
away,  however;  and,  above  all,  she  has  the  power  of 
making  people  love  her.  What  more  could  a  girl 
want  ?" 

"Is  it  enough?" 

"Quite  enough!"  Miss  Gibbie's  eyes  flashed  into 
John  Maxwell's.  "Why  not  enough?  She  has 
work  to  do,  a  place  to  fill,  is  needed,  and  is  bringing 
cheer  and  sunshine  to  others.  There  is  a  great  deal 
to  be  done  for  Yorkburg,  and  being  that  rare  thing, 
a  leader,  she  has  already  started  much  that  will  make 
great  changes  later  on.  Sit  down  and  stop  looking 
at  me  that  way!  She  has  quite  enough." 

John  threw  his  cigar  away  and  took  the  chair  she 
pushed  toward  him.  "I  don't  believe  we  do  un 
derstand  each  other  as  well  as  we  thought,"  he  said, 
again  leaning  forward  and  clasping  his  hands  to 
gether.  "I  know  what  Mary  is. to  you.  I  saw  it 
that  first  day  I  joined  you  at  Windemere,  and  during 
the  weeks  we  were  together  I  saw  also  it  wasn't  Mary 
alone  I'd  have  to  win,  but  there'd  be  you  to  fight  as 
well.  I  told  you  in  the  beginning  just  where  I  stood. 
I've  kept  nothing  from  you  and  I'm  fighting  fair,  but 
neither  you  nor  anybody  else  on  God's  earth  can  keep 
me  from  trying  to  make  her  my  wife.  Life  is  before 
us—" 

148 


THE   BARGAIN 

"And  behind  me." 

He  flushed.  "I  didn't  mean  that.  I  mean  that 
Mary  is  not  to  sacrifice  herself  to  an  idea,  to  a  con 
dition,  if  I  can  help  it.  I'm  with  her  in  all  this  work 
for  the  old  place.  I  love  it.  I've  tried  to  prove  it  in 
more  than  words,  and  I  would  not  ask  her  to  give  it 
up  entirely.  A  home  can  always  be  kept  here,  but 
another  sort  of  home  is  meant  for  Mary.  And  it's 
the  one  I  want  to  make  for  her." 

"Your  mother's?" 

John's  steady  eyes  looked  in  the  stormy  ones. 
"No  —  not  my  mother's.  When  Mary  is  my  wife 
she  goes  to  the  home  of  which  she  is  to  be  the  mis 
tress.  Like  you,  my  mother — " 

"Objects  to  matrimony.  I  understand  Mrs.  Max 
well  is  as  much  opposed  to  your  marriage  as  I  am  to 
Mary's.  That  should  be  a  stimulus  to  both  of  you. 
Opposition  is  a  great  incentive,  but  in  this  case  the 
trouble  is  with  Mary  herself.  Would  you  marry  her, 
anyhow  ?" 

"  I  would."  He  smiled.  "  I'd  take  Mary  any  way 
I  could  get  her.  Oh,  I  used  to  have  theories  of  my 
own  about  such  things,  but  love  knocks  theories  into 
r  othingness.  It  makes  us  do  things  we  never  thought 
we  would,  doesn't  it  ?" 

Miss  Gibbie  turned  her  head  away  from  his  un 
derstanding  eyes,  and  tapped  the  porch  impatiently 
with  her  foot. 

"It  makes  fools  of  most  people.  But  as  long  as 
149 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

we've  mentioned  it  we  might  as  well  have  this  out. 
Mary  doesn't  want  to  marry  anybody.  She  is  happy, 
and  you  are  not  to  be  coming  down  here  trying  to 
make  her  change  her  mind,  trying  to  take  her  away!" 

"Who  is  going  to  stop  it?" 

They  were  her  words,  and  at  remembrance  of 
them  her  face  changed  and  over  it  swept  sudden  un 
derstanding,  and  her  hand  went  helplessly  toward 
him. 

"John,"  she  said,  "I'm  an  old  woman  and  she's 
all  I've  got.  Don't  take  her  from  me!  Don't  take 
her  away!" 

He  frowned  slightly,  but  he  took  the  hand  which  he 
had  never  before  seen  tremble,  and  smoothed  it 
gently.  "Not  from  you,  Miss  Gibbie.  I  wouldn't 
take  her  out  of  your  life.  She  would  let  nothing  or 
nobody  do  that,  but  for  years  I  have  been  waiting — " 

"How  old  are  you  ?" 

"Twenty-seven  in  October." 

She  sat  suddenly  upright.  "An  infant!  She  will 
be  twenty-three  in  June.  And  I — I  am  sixty-five. 
Your  life,  as  you  said,  is  before  you,  yours  and  hers. 
Mine  is  behind,  but  in  the  little  of  mine  left  I  need 
her.  Will  you  hold  off  for  a  while  ?  Listen !  She 
doesn't  know  she  loves  you.  Doesn't  know  the 
reason  she  has  never  loved  any  one  else  is  because 
there  is  but  one  man  in  her  life,  and  that  is  you.  I 
didn't  want  to  tell  you  this,  didn't  want  you  to  know 
it,  don't  want  her  to  know  it — yet.  She  is  a  child 

150 


THE    BARGAIN 

still,  though  so  verily  a  woman  in  much.  She  has 
owned  you  since  that  first  visit  you  made  to  Michigan, 
a  big,  awkward,  red-faced  boy  of  seventeen,  with  the 
same  fearless  eyes  you've  got  now  and  the  same  de 
termined  mouth.  You've  told  me  about  it  and  she's 
told  me  about  it  and  how  all  you  said  at  first  was 
'How'd  do,  Mary?  I'm  here.'  And  you've  been 
'here'  ever  since.  Don't  you  see  she  takes  you  for 
granted  ?  The  best  of  women  will  do  that  and  never 
guess  how  rare  a  thing  is  a  strong  man's  love.  For 
you  there's  but  one  woman  in  the  world,  but  a  woman 
is  the  strangest  thing  God's  made  yet,  and  there  are 
no  rules  by  which  to  understand  her.  And  you  don't 
understand  Mary.  Until  she  does  what  it  is  in  her 
heart  to  do  here — gets  rid  of  some  of  the  regulations 
that  use  to  enrage  her  as  a  child,  starts  flowers  where 
are  weeds,  and  opens  eyes  that  are  shut — she  couldn't 
be  happy.  But  listen!  I  am  going  to  tell  you  what 
for  cold,  hard  years  I  pretended  not  to  believe.  A 
woman's  heart  never  ceases  to  long  for  the  love  that 
makes  her  first  in  life,  and  after  a  while  Mary  will  know 
her  arms  were  meant  to  hold  children  of  her  own." 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence,  and  then  Miss 
t  Gibbie  spoke  again. 

"Let  her  alone,  John.  Let  her  find  for  herself 
that  the  best  community  mother  should  be  the  woman 
who  has  borne  children  and  knows  the  depths  of 
human  experience  are  needed  to  reach  its  heights. 
She  has  her  own  ideas  of  service;  so  have  I.  Mine 
11  151 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

are  that  most  people  you  try  to  help  are  piggy  and 
grunt  if  you  happen  LO  step  on  their  toes.  She  says 
they  grunt  only  when  the  stepping  is  not  by  accident, 
and  the  pigginess  is  often  with  the  people  who  help. 
As  benefactors  they  want  to  own  the  benefactored. 
Perhaps  they  do.  She  knows  much  more  of  the 
behind-the-scenes  of  life  than  I  do.  But  I  know 
some  things  she  doesn't,  and  a  good  many  you  don't. 
If  I  didn't  like  you,  boy,  I  wouldn't  tell  you  what 
I'm  going  to  tell  you,  and  that  is,  stay  away  and  let 
her  miss  you.  I'd  tell  you  to  keep  on  and  nag  her 
to  death,  and  make  her  despise  you  for  your  weak 
ness.  She'll  never  marry  a  man  she  doesn't  respect, 
even  if  she  loved  him,  and  love  is  by  no  means  de 
pendent  on  respect." 

Miss  Gibbie  nibbled  the  tip  of  her  turkey-wing 
fan  for  a  moment  of  stillness,  unbroken  save  for  the 
twitter  of  birds  in  the  trees  near  by,  then  turned  once 
more  to  the  man  by  her  side. 

"I'll  be  honest  with  you.  I  don't  want  her  to 
marry  you  or  anybody  else.  I  want  to  keep  her  with 
me;  but  I'll  be  square.  It  will  be  hands  off  until 
she  decides  for  herself.  If  you  will  say  nothing  to  her 
for  a  year  I  will  say  nothing  before  her  against  mar 
riage  in  general,  and  I've  said  a  great  deal  in  the  past. 
And,  moreover,  I  will  wrap  my  blessing  up  to-day 
and  hand  it  out  a  year  hence  if  you  deserve  it,  even  if 
the  handing  breaks  my  heart."  She  held  out  her 
hand.  "Is  it  a  bargain?" 

152 


THE   BARGAIN 

"I  don't  know  whether  it  is  or  not."  He  inter 
locked  his  fingers  and  looked  down  on  the  floor  of  the 
porch.  The  ridges  in  his  forehead  stood  out  heavily, 
and  his  teeth  bit  into  his  under  lip.  "It  is  ask 
ing  a  good  deal,  and  I  don't  like  to  make  a  promise 
I  might  not  be  able  to  fulfil.  A  year  is  a  long 
time.  She  might  need  me.  Something  might  hap 
pen." 

"About  your  only  chance.  Don't  you  see  she 
needs  something  to  wake  her  up  ?  I'm  not  going  to 
wake  her.  I  want  her  to  sleep  on.  I'm  selfish  and 
don't  deny  it.  But,  of  course,  do  as  you  choose." 
She  waved  her  fan  with  a  wash-my-hands-of-you  air, 
and  settled  herself  back  in  her  chair.  "I've  been  a 
fool  to  talk  as  I  have,  perhaps,  but  I  couldn't  see  a 
dog  hit  his  tail  on  a  fence  and  not  tell  him  it  was 
barbed  if  I  knew  it  and  he  didn't.  Being  a  man,  you 
must  think  it  over,  I  suppose,  and  take  a  week  to 
find  out  what  a  woman  could  tell  you  in  the  wink  of 
an  eye.  A  man's  head  is  no  better  than  a  cocoanut 
where  his  heart  is  concerned." 

"If  I  should  do  this,"  he  said,  presently,  "and  any 
thing  should  happen  in  which  she  needed  me,  and 
you  did  not  let  me  know,  did  not  send  for  me, 
I—" 

"Don't  be  tragic,  mon  enfant.  And  in  the  mean 
time  I  don't  mind  telling  you  she  is  coming  down 
the  street.  I  wouldn't  turn  my  head,  if  I  were  you, 
though  that  big  hat  she's  got  on,  with  the  wreath  of 

153 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

wild  roses,  is  very  becoming.  She  ought  always  to 
wear  white.  She  is  inside  the  gate  now."  His  hand 
was  given  a  quick  warm  grasp.  "Boy — boy — I've 
been  young.  If  she  needs  you  I  will  let  you  know." 


XIII 


A   GRATEFUL   CONVALESCENT 

IN'T  it  pink  and  white  and  whispery  to 
day  ?"  she  said  to  herself.  "The  birds 
are  having  the  best  time,  and  the  sun  looks 
like  it's  singing  out  loud,  it's  so  bursting 
bright.  'Tain't  hard  to  love  anybody  on 
a  day  like  this." 
Peggy's  thin  little  fingers  played  with  the  spray  of 
roses  on  her  lap,  and  her  big  brown  eyes  roved  first  in 
one  direction  and  then  the  other  as  she  followed  the 
movements  of  the  girl  on  the  lawn  cutting  fresh 
flowers  for  the  house;  then  as  the  latter  came  closer 
she  held  out  a  wasted  little  hand,  but  drew  it  back 
before  it  was  seen. 

It  was  her  first  day  outdoors  for  three  weeks,  and 
it  was  very  good  to  be  in  the  open  air  again.  She 
leaned  back  in  the  steamer-chair  filled  with  pillows, 
in  which  she  had  been  placed  an  hour  before,  and 
stretched  out  her  feet  luxuriously.  Over  them  a 
light  blanket  had  been  thrown,  and  as  she  smoothed 
the  pink  kimona  which  covered  her  gown  she  sighed 
in  happy  content. 

155 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

"This  is  me,  Peggy  McDougal,  who  lives  in  Mill- 
town,"  she  went  on,  talking  to  herself,  "but  right  now 
feeling  like  she  might  be  in  heaven.  My!  but  I'm 
glad  I  ain't,  though,  'cause  there  mightn't  be  any 
body  in  heaven  I  know,  and  this  place  where  Miss 
Mary  Gary  lives  is  happy  enough  for  me.  Muther 
say  I'd  been  dead  and  buried  before  this  if'n  it 
hadn't  been  for  Miss  Mary.  I  reckon  I  would. 
Some  nights  I  thought  I  was  goin'  to  strangle  sure, 
and  the  night  I  had  that  sinker  spell,  and  pretty  near 
faded  out,  I  saw  Miss  Mary,  when  'twas  over,  put  her 
head  down  on  the  table  and  just  cry  and  cry.  Look 
like  she  couldn't  help  it.  She  thought  I  didn't  know 
a  thing.  But  I  did.  I  knowed  she  cared.  Warn't 
it  funny  for  a  lady  like  her  to  care  about  a  little  child 
like  me  what  comes  of  factory  folks  and  ain't  got 
nothin'  ahead  but  plain  humbleness  ? 

"And  diphtheria  is  a  ketchin'  disease  muther  says. 
That's  why  Miss  Mary  picked  me  up  so  quick  and 
brought  me  out  here  when  the  doctor  said  I  had  it. 
If'n  she  hadn't  Teeny  might  have  took  it  from  me, 
'cause  we  sleep  in  the  bed  together,  and  Susie  might, 
too,  for  she's  in  the  same  room,  and  all  the  twins 
might,  the  little  ones  and  the  big  ones,  and  muther 
would  have  been  worked  to  death  a-nursin'  of  me 
and  a-cookin'  for  the  rest.  And  I  might  have  died 
and  been  put  in  the  ground,  and  then  they'd  had  to 
pay  for  the  funeral,  and  there  warn't  a  cent  for  it. 
Muther  couldn't  have  paid  for  a  funeral  out  of  eggs, 

156 


'cause  coffins  have  gone  up,  and  the  hens  don't  lay 
'em  fast  enough,  and  'twould  have  took  too  many. 
I  wish  hens  could  lay  more  than  one  egg  a  day. 
Roosters  ain't  a  bit  of  'count  for  eggs." 

She  put  her  hands  behind  her  head  and  drew  in 
a  deep  breath,  "But  I  ain't  dead."  Suddenly  the 
wasted  little  fingers  were  pressed  over  tightly  closed 
eyes.  "Oh  Lord,"  she  said,  soberly,  "I'm  very 
much  obliged  to  you  for  lettin'  of  me  live.  I  hope 
nobody  will  ever  be  sorry  I  didn't  die.  Help  me  to 
grow  up  and  be  like  Miss  Mary  Gary.  Lookin'  out, 
like  her,  for  little  children  what  ain't  got  anybody 
special  to  be  lookin'  after  them.  'Course  I  had  my 
muther  and  father,  but  they  had  so  much  to  do,  and 
didn't  have  the  money,  and  diphtheria  takes  money. 
Poor  people  ain't  got  it.  If'n  I  don't  ever  have  any 
money,  please  help  me  to  help  some  other  way. 
Maybe  I  might  be  cheerfuler.  Amen." 

"Hello,  Peggy.     Sleep?" 

Mary  Gary's  hands,  flower-filled,  were  held  close 
to  Peggy's  face,  and  at  sound  of  her  voice  Peggy's 
eyes  opened  joyfully.  "Oh,  Miss  Mary,  you  skeered 
me!  I  thought  you  were  way  down  by  the  gate. 
Aint  they  lovely!  Ain't  they  LOVELY!"  And  Peggy's 
little  pug  nose  sniffed  eagerly  the  roses  held  close  to 
them. 

"Hardly  anything  left  but  roses  now,  but  June  is 
the  rose  month.  Lend  me  one  of  your  cushions  and 
I'll  sit  down  awhile  and  cool  off  before  I  go  in." 

157 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

She  laid  the  flowers  carefully  on  the  ground,  threw 
the  cushion  beside  them  and,  pulling  Peggy's  chair 
closer  to  the  large  chestnut-tree,  whose  branches 
made  a  wide  circle  of  shade  in  the  brilliant  sunshine, 
sat  down,  then  rested  her  hand  in  Peggy's  lap  and 
smiled  in  her  happy  eyes. 

"It's  good  to  have  you  out  here,  Peggy  child,"  she 
said.  "You'll  soon  have  cheeks  like  peaches.  This 
sunshine  and  fresh  air  will  paint  them  for  you  and 
make  the  color  stick.  Did  you  have  some  milk  at 
ten  ?" 

"Yes'm,  thank  you.  Milk  and  eggs,  too.  Reckon 
I'll  be  bustin'  fat  by  this  time  next  week  if'n  I  keep 
on  swallowin'  all  them  things  Miss  Hedwig  brings 
me.  She  certainly  is  a  good  lady,  that  Miss  Hedwig 
is.  She's  got  roses  in  her  cheeks,  and  ain't  her  light 
hair  pretty  ?  She  wears  it  awful  plain,  just  parted 
and  brushed  back,  but  it's  like  the  silk  in  corn.  Is 
that  all  the  name  she's  got — Hedwig  ?" 

"No.  Hedwig  Armstrong  is  her  name.  She's  an 
Austrian." 

"I  knew  a  girl  named  Armstrong  once,  but  she 
was  a  Yorkburger.  Is  Armstrong  Austrian,  too  ?" 

"Armstrong  is  American,  I  suppose.  I  don't  know 
what  it  is."  She  laughed,  pulling  the  petals  off  a 
rose  and  popping  them  with  her  lips.  "Hedwig  is 
a  pretty  name,  and  the  other  part  I  never  think  of. 
I  had  almost  forgotten  the  other  part." 

"I  didn't  know  there  was  any  other  part.  But  I 
158 


A   GRATEFUL   CONVALESCENT 

heard  Susie  tell  muther  once  that  Mrs.  Deford  and 
Miss  Honoria  Brockenborough  were  talking  about 
her  the  day  they  bought  their  spring  hats,  and  they 
said  she  looked  like  a  mystery  to  them,  and  they 
thought  'twas  very  strange  a  nice-looking  white 
woman  should  be  willing  to  come  down  here  and  be 
a  servant." 

Mary  Gary  frowned  quickly.  "I  wish  they  had 
said  that  to  me.  Hedwig  is  my  maid,  but  she  is  my 
friend  as  well.  She  used  to  be  in  my  uncle's  hos 
pital.  In  all  this  big  country  she  hasn't  a  relative." 

"They  said  her  letters  had  Mrs.  on  them.  Some 
body  at  the  post-office  told  them  so,  but  her  husband 
ain't  ever  been  to  see  her,  they  said,  and  muther  say 
she  didn't  think  that  sounded  as  righteous  as  it  might, 
comin'  from  Mrs.  Deford,  whose  husband  don't  seem 
to  hanker  after  her  neither,  and — " 

"Next  time  you  hear  anything  like  that  you  might 
mention  that  dead  husbands  can't  visit  conveniently. 
Hedwig's  husband  is  dead." 

Peggy  sat  upright,  eyes  wide  and  interested.  "  Poor 
thing!  I  thought  she  had  an  awful  lonely  look  at 
times.  I  certainly  am  sorry  he's  dead.  I  mean  if 
He  was  worth  killing.  Muther  say  all  men  ain't. 
Hasn't  she  got  any  little  children,  either  ?" 

Mary  Gary  bent  over  the  rose  in  her  hand  and 
buried  her  lips  in  its  damp  depths.  "No,"  she  said, 
after  a  moment,  "she  has  no  children.  Her  little  girl 
died." 

159 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

Peggy  leaned  back.  Overhead  a  bluebird,  strain 
ing  its  little  throat  in  exultant  melody,  flew  from 
branch  to  branch  of  the  big  chestnut-tree,  and  the 
hum  of  insects  made  soft  monotone  to  the  shrill  cry 
of  the  locust,  which  promised  greater  heat  next  day. 
In  the  distance  the  Calverton  road  stretched  white 
and  dusty  south  to  town,  north  to  the  unknown  land, 
the  land  of  dreams  to  Peggy  and  to  Peggy's  mother, 
who  had  never  been  beyond  it,  and  as  she  looked 
toward  it  she  wondered  if  it  led  to  the  place  where 
Hedwig  had  laid  her  little  child.  She  would  never 
speak  of  this  again.  She  could  tell  by  Miss  Mary's 
face  she  would  not  like  it. 

For  some  minutes  they  sat  in  silence  and  then 
Peggy's  hand  reached  out  and  touched  that  of  Mary 
Gary's,  which  was  resting  on  the  arm  of  her  chair. 
The  eyes  of  the  latter  were  narrowed  slightly  as  if 
lost  in  memories,  and,  looking  at  her,  Peggy  hesi 
tated,  then  called  her  name. 

"Miss  Mary—" 

With  a  deep  breath  as  if  back  from  a  journey,  she 
stirred,  and  with  a  start  looked  up.  "Did  you  speak 
to  me  ?" 

Peggy's  hand  gripped  the  one  on  which  it  rest 
ed.  "I  just  want  to  tell  you  something.  How 
long  has  it  been  since  the  first  day  I  was  took 
sick  ?" 

"  Since  the  first  day  you  were  took  sick  ?  Let  me 
see."  Mary  Gary  laughed,  and  her  fingers  closed 

160 


A   GRATEFUL   CONVALESCENT 

over  the  thin  ones,  which  seemed  to  be  trembling. 
"It's  been  three  weeks  to-day." 

"And  I've  been  here—?" 

"Three  weeks  to-morrow.     Why?" 

"I  was  wondering  if  you  would  mind  telling  me 
what  made  you  do  it — what  made  you  bring  me  out 
here  and  nurse  me  and  sit  up  with  me.  What  made 
you  do  it  ?" 

"What  made  me  do  it  ?"  Her  voice  was  puzzled. 
"  I  never  thought  of  what  made  me  do  it.  I  loved 
you,  Peggy.  You  are  my  friend,  you  know,  and  you 
were  sick.  I  wanted  to  do  it." 

"  Diphtheria  is  ketchin'." 

"Not  if  you're  careful.  I  knew  how  to  take  care 
of  myself.  But  your  mother  didn't,  and  with  chil 
dren  it's  a  risk  to  have  it  around.  I  wasn't  afraid." 

"But  you  might  have  took  it.  And  muther  says 
you've  been  a  prisoner  since  I've  been  out  here. 
You  couldn't  go  nowhere,  and  couldn't  nobody  come 
to  see  you.  Ain't  any  the  mill  folks  and  factory  folks 
seen  you  for  three  weeks.  You  couldn't  even  go  to 
see  Miss  Gibbie  Gault." 

"  But  she  has  been  to  see  me.  I'd  fumigate  myself 
and  come  out  here  and  see  her  nearly  every  day,  and 
I  can  talk  to  everybody  over  the  telephone.  Wires 
are  germ-proof  so  far,  though  they'll  tell  us  they're 
not  after  a  while,  I  suppose.  And  .I've  had  a  good 
rest  and  chance  to  catch  up  with  lots  of  reading.  You 
weren't  really  ill  but  four  days,  and — " 

161 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

"Them  four  days  near  'bout  wore  you  out.  I 
know.  I  saw  a  lot  of  things  you  didn't  think  I  saw. 
It  ain't  pleasant  for  nobody  to  see  somebody  nearly 
strangle,  and  you  thought  I  was  gone  once."  She 
turned  the  big,  brown  eyes,  which  too  early  in  life 
had  learned  to  understand  the  burden  of  demand 
without  supply,  upon  the  girl  beside  her,  and  her 
lips  quivered. 

"I  don't  know  how  to  tell  you  what  I  want  to  tell 
you.  When  you  feel  something  right  here" — she 
put  her  shut  hand  upon  her  breast — "it's  hard  to  put 
it  in  words.  There  ain't  any  words  for  it.  I 
couldn't  no  way  tell  you  how  much  I  thank  you,  and 
I  ain't  got  but  one  way  to  show  it.  'Tis  by  livin' 
right.  But  I  want  you  to  know  I  understand.  So 
does  God.  I've  been  talkin'  right  much  with  Him 
about  it,  and  I'm  askin'  Him  every  day  to  make  me 
fitt'n'  to  be  your  friend.  They  say  love  can  do  a  lot 
for  a  person,  and  make  a  good  thing  out  of  a  bad  one, 
quicker'n  anything  else.  And  you'll  never  know  on 
this  earth  how  much  I  love  you,  Miss  Mary." 

"Why,  Peggy!"  Mary  Gary's  arms  were  around 
the  shaking  little  figure,  whose  face  had  grown  white 
with  the  effort  of  her  frankness. 

"Why,  Peggy  dear,  what  are  you  talking  about? 
There's  nothing  to  thank  me  for.  Who  wouldn't  do 
what's  been  done  ?  You  mustn't  talk  like — " 

"Nobody  but  you  would  have  done  it.  I  warn't 
any  kin,  and  'twarn't  a  Christian  duty  like  goin'  to 

162 


A    GRATEFUL   CONVALESCENT 

church.  And  'twas  enough  to  make  Miss  Gibbie 
mad.  Is  she  mad  with  me,  Miss  Mary  ?" 

"Of  course  she  isn't!  You  couldn't  help  getting 
sick."  The  pillows  were  patted  and  Peggy  was  forced 
back  among  them.  "And  now  there's  to  be  no  more 
thanks  for  anything.  And  Peggy" — the  clear  eyes, 
suddenly  a  bit  dimmed,  were  looking  into  Peggy's — 
"  I've  got  such  a  grand  piece  of  news  for  you.  I've 
been  waiting  to  tell  you  all  the  morning." 

"  Is  it  I've  got  to  go  home  ?"  Peggy's  face  fell, 
and  she  blinked  hard  to  keep  back  sudden  tears. 
"  Have  I  got  to  go  home  ?" 

"Mercy,  no!  You  won't  be  able  to  go  home  for 
some  time  yet.  You  are  to  stay  here  a  week  longer 
to  get  strong  and  then — you  and  your  mother  are 
to  go  to  Atlantic  City  for  two  weeks.  Two — whole — 
weeks!" 

Peggy's  hands  fell  limply  in  her  lap,  her  eyes 
closed  sharply,  and  down  the  thin  little  cheeks  tears, 
no  longer  to  be  held  back,  rolled  in  big,  round  drops. 
For  a  moment  she  lay  still,  then  threw  her  arms 
around  the  neck  of  the  girl  now  leaning  beside  her, 
frightened  a  bit  by  the  effect  of  her  words,  and  sobbed 
in  unrestraint. 

"  Please  let  it  come  out,  Miss  Mary.  Please  let  it 
come  out!  It's  been  chokin'  of  me  for  days,  this 
thankfulness  inside,  and  I  can't  breathe  good  till  1 
get  it  out!" 

For  a  little  longer  the  short,  quick  gasps  continued, 
163 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

and  then  she  drew  herself  out  of  the  strong  arms 
which  had  been  holding  her  close,  and  wiped  her  eyes 
with  the  back  of  her  hand. 

"You  mean  muther  won't  have  to  cook  for  two 
weeks,  won't  have  to  wash  dishes — I  always  wipe 
them — and  can  sit  down  as  long  as  she  wants,  and 
can  sleep  till  seven  o'clock  in  the  mornin'  ?  You 
mean —  You  ain't  foolin'  of  me  are  you,  Miss 
Mary?" 

"Of  course  I'm  not.  You  are  to  go  to-morrow 
week." 

"  But  how  we  goin'  ?  The  hens  can't  lay  eggs 
enough  for — " 

"The  hens  have  nothing  to  do  with  this.  A  friend 
of  yours  and  your  mother's  wants  you  to  have  this 
holiday.  This  friend  knows  your  mother  is  tired  out, 
and  knows  the  salt  air  will  do  you  good." 

Peggy  gave  a  deep  sigh.  "Muther's  said  fifty 
times,  if  she's  said  once,  that  if  she  could  go  to  that 
Atlantic  City  and  see  those  things  she's  read  about 
and  seen  pictures  of  she'd  give  her  left  foot  and  hop 
the  rest  of  her  life.  There's  a  lot  of  water  there, 
ain't  it?" 

"Ocean  of  it.  And  a  beautiful  beach,  ancl  surf 
bathing,  and  a  boardwalk  miles  long,  and  piers,  and 
merry-go-rounds,  and  shops,  and  hot  sausages,  and 
moving-pictures,  and  rolling-chairs,  and  lovely  mu 
sic,  and  ice-cream  waffles,  and  orangeade,  and  pop 
corn.  Your  mother  will  see  it  all,  but  you  will  have 

164 


A  GRATEFUL  CONVALESCENT 

to  be  careful  at  first — just  sit  in  the  sand  and  not  eat 
all  those  things  right  off." 

"  Do  they  give  'em  to  you  ?" 

Mary  Gary  laughed.  "Not  exactly.  Nothing  is 
given  that  can  be  sold,  but  there' re  lots  of  things,  the 
best  things,  that  don't  cost  money.  If  we  had  to  buy 
air  and  sunshine  and  sky  and  clouds  and  stars  and 
sunsets  we'd  sell  all  we  own  to  get  them,  but  because 
they're  free  they're  not  noticed  half  the  time." 

"Does  muther  know  we  are  goin',  Miss  Mary?" 
Peggy's  face  clouded  suddenly.  "Who's  goin'  to 
take  care  of  things  if  she  and  me  go  way  together  ? 
Lizzie  lives  away  all  the  time,  and  Susie  and  Teeny 
works.  Who's  goin'  to  look  after  father  and  the 
boys  ?" 

"Your  Aunt  Sarah.  And  if  you  will  stop  thinking 
of  all  those  practical  things  and  just  be  a  child  and 
enjoy  yourself  I  will  be  much  obliged  to  you.  Time 
enough  for  you  to  be  the  mother  of  a  family  when 
you  have  children  of  your  own." 

"I  ain't  ever  goin'  to  have  children  of  my  own. 
I've  helped  raise  two  sets  of  twins  and  took  care  of 
the  baby  till  it  died,  and  I  made  up  my  mind  then  I 
wasn't  goin'  to  have  any.  It  hurts  too  bad  when  they 
die.  Mis'  Toone's  had  twelve  and  she  says  when 
they're  little  they're  lots  of  care  and  when  they're  big 
you're  full  of  fear,  and  I  reckon  she  knows.  Her 
boys  turned  out  awful  bad.  Muther  don't  mind 
havin'  a  lot  of  children,  though.  She  don't  take  'em 

165 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

serious,  but  she  says  I  was  born  serious  and  always 
wonderin'  if  there's  food  and  clothes  enough  to  go 
round.  And  besides — " 

"Besides  what?" 

"I  don't  think  Fd  like  a  husband.  So  many  in 
Milltown  is  just  trifles.  Mis'  Jepson  says  she's  so 
glad  her  husband's  no  blood  relation  to  her  she  don't 
know  what  to  do." 

"She's  had  three,  if  she  isn't  proud  of  this  last  one. 
Told  me  so  herself." 

"She  tells  everybody.  Sometimes  she's  right  set 
up  about  havin'  buried  two  and  havin'  a  third  livin', 
and  then  when  she  gets  mad  with  Mr.  Jepson  she 
says  anybody  could  get  husbands  like  hers.  But, 
Miss  Mary" — again  the  anxious  look  hovered  a  mo 
ment  on  the  earnest  little  face — "muther  ain't  got  a 
dress  to  her  name  fitt'n  to  wear.  That's  the  reason 
she  hasn't  been  to  church  this  spring.  Everybody 
else  had  to  have  something,  and  it  takes  all  father's 
money  for  rent  and  food,  and  the  egg  money  went  for 
medicine  when  Billy  was  sick." 

"Oh,  that  will  be  all  right.  We're  going  to  see 
she's  fixed  up.  Didn't  I  tell  you  to  stop  thinking 
about  things  like  that  ?  By  the  time  you'^  grown 
you'll  have  all  Milltown  on  your  shoulders." 

"You've  got  all  Yorkburg  on  yours." 

"Indeed  I  haven't."  She  got  up.  "But  this 
isn't  writing  my  letters.  Did  you  know  they  were 
going  to  begin  building  both  schools  the  first  of  Au- 

166 


A   GRATEFUL   CONVALESCENT 

gust  ?  The  plans  have  been  accepted,  and  next  year 
you'll  be  in  the  new  grammar  school.  Isn't  that 
fine  ?" 

Peggy  nodded,  but  not  enthusiastically.  "I  don't 
think  my  head  was  meant  for  much  schoolin',  but  of 
course  I'll  go  until  I'm  big  enough  to  work.  Are 
you  goin'  to  write  to  that  friend  of  yours  and  muther's 
to-day?  If  you  do  would  you  mind" — she  hesi 
tated  and  her  face  flushed  slightly — "would  you  mind 
sayin'  I'm  awful  much  obliged  for  bein'  sent  to  At 
lantic  City  ?  I  haven't  took  it  in  good  yet.  Don't 
seem  like  it  can  be  true  sure  'nough  that  Mill- 
town  people  like  muther  and  me  can  be  goin'  to  a 
place  like  that.  My  stomach  is  quiverin'  this  minute 
in  little  chills  from  hearin'  'bout  it.  I  reckon  it  will 
take  'till  next  week  to  get  used  to  the  feel  of  the 
thought.  I  saw  a  picture  once  of  a  lot  of  people  in 
bathin',  and  muther  said  they  didn't  look  to  her  like 
they  had  enough  clothes  on,  but  she  say  if  they  choose 
to  make  spectickles  of  themselves  there  warn't  no  law 
to  keep  you  from  lookin',  and  she  always  believed  in 
seein'  all  there  was  to  see  in  life.  Muther  certainly 
will  have  a  grand  time,  and  won't  she  throw  back  her 
head  and  laugh  hearty  ?  It  certainly  is  good  in  your 
friend  to  give  her  the  chance.  I  reckon  it  must  be 
somebody  who  loves  to  give  pleasure." 

12 


XIV 


M 


m 


A  MORNING  TALK 

ISS  LIZZIE  BETTIE  PRYOR  lifted  the 
heavy  black  veil  with  which  her  face  was 
covered  and  looked  up  and  down  the  long 
dusty  street,  half  asleep  in  the  full  heat  of 
a  July  day.  Then  she  walked  up  the  steps 
of  Mrs.  Deford's  house  and  into  the  hall, 
the  door  of  which  was  open.  From  the  porch  at  the 
back  she  could  hear  voices,  and  for  a  moment  she 
hesitated.  The  requirements  of  custom  were  punc 
tiliously  observed  by  Miss  Lizzie  Bettie,  and  though 
two  months  had  passed  since  the  death  of  her  father 
she  had  paid  no  visits  to  friends  or  relatives,  and  this 
first  one  was  now  being  made  in  the  expectation  of 
a  talk  alone  with  Mrs.  Deford.  Everybody  had 
been  kind  and  everything  had  been  done  that  could 
be  done,  but  people  were  doubtless  tired  of  coVning  to 
see  six  black  crows  sitting  in  a  darkened  parlor,  and 
had  stopped  doing  it,  with  the  result  that  she  did  not 
know  what  was  going  on  as  fully  as  she  should,  and 
it  was  time  to  find  out. 

She  put  down  her  parasol  and  walked  to  the  end 

168 


A  MORNING   TALK 

of  the  hall.  In  the  door  she  stood  a  moment,  looking 
at  the  south  end  of  the  long  porch,  then  advanced 
slowly  toward  it.  Miss  Georganna  Brickhouse  and 
Lily  Deford  were  nearest  the  railing,  and  near  them 
were  the  latter's  mother  and  Miss  Puss  Jenkins. 
Annie  Steele,  her  little  boy  on  her  lap,  was  listening 
with  her  left  ear — her  right  being  deaf — to  something 
Mrs.  Deford  was  saying,  and,  as  Miss  Lizzie  Bettie 
came  nearer,  jumped  as  if  caught  in  an  unrighteous 
act. 

"Good  gracious,  Lizzie  Bettie,  you  frightened  me 
nearly  to  death!"  Mrs.  Deford  got  up  and  pushed 
her  chair  forward.  "You  came  up  like  a  black 
ghost.  Do  pray  take  that  heavy  veil  off.  It  makes 
me  hot  just  to  look  at  you!" 

"Then  don't  look."  Miss  Lizzie  Bettie's  voice  was 
huffy.  She  had  expected  a  different  greeting.  For 
weeks  she  had  not  been  outside  of  her  house  except 
on  business  and  to  church  and  the  cemetery,  and 
now  to  be  spoken  to  as  if  she'd  been  over  every  day 
was  a  jar.  She  did  not  like  it. 

"I  can't  help  looking  if  you  sit  in  front  of  me. 
It's  a  heathenish  custom,  this  shrouding  of  one's  self 
in  black,  and  so  unbecoming.  Lily,  get  Lizzie  Bettie 
a  glass  of  iced  tea,  or  would  you  rather  have  lemon 
ade  ?"  And  Mrs.  Deford  stopped  fanning  long 
enough  to  put  her  lorgnette  to  her  eyes  and  look  at 
her  latest  visitor  critically.  She  had  on  a  new  dress 
and  looked  better  in  it  than  anything  she  had  ever 

169 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

seen  her  wear  before.     She  wondered  where  it  came 
from. 

"I  don't  care  for  tea  or  lemonade  either."  Miss 
Lizzie  Bettie  unpinned  her  hat  and  veil  and  laid 
them  on  the  chair  behind  her,  drew  off  her  gloves  and, 
opening  her  bag  of  dull  jet  beads,  took  from  it  a 
handkerchief  with  a  heavy  black  border,  and  wiped 
her  lips  with  careful  deliberation.  "How  are  you, 
Miss  Puss  ?  I  heard  you  were  going  away." 

"  I  did  expect  to,  but  I've  had  dyspepsia  so  bad  in 
my  left  foot  that  I  haven't  been  able  to  finish  my  sew 
ing.  When  I  have  dyspepsia  in  my  foot  this  way  it 
feels  like  it  hasn't  a  bit  of  feeling  in  it,  and  makes  me 
so  nervous  I'm  not  fit  for  a  thing.  It's  a  great  deal 
worse  than  gout.  I  have  gout  in  my  right  foot  and 
can  put  my  finger  on  the  spot,  but  when  you  feel  bad 
and  can't  exactly  find  the  place  that  hurts  and  haven't 
any  name  to  call  it  by  it  gets  on  your  nerves  so  that — " 

"  Everybody  runs  when  they  see  you  coming.  For 
goodness'  sake  don't  get  on  nerves,  Puss.  Where  are 
you  going  ?"  Mrs.  Deford  looked  up.  Lily,  her 
daughter,  was  trying  to  get  by. 

"I  want  to  see  Sarah  Sue  Moon  about  something," 
she  said.  "  I  promised  to  be  there  by  twelve  and  it's 
nearly  half-past.  Excuse  me,  Miss  Georganna! 
Did  I  step  on  your  toe  ?  Good-bye."  She  nodded 
to  the  others  and  went  into  the  hall,  and  her  mother, 
getting  up,  took  the  chair  she  had  left  and  drew  it  a 
little  apart  from  her  guests. 

170 


A   MORNING    TALK 

"Lily  doesn't  look  well,  Laura."  Miss  Georganna 
Brickhouse,  who  always  talked  through  her  nose  and 
seemingly  with  it,  owing  to  the  nervous  twitching  of 
her  nostrils,  looked  at  Mrs.  Deford.  "You  ought  to 
take  her  away." 

"Ought  I?  If  you  had  a  daughter  eighteen  who 
didn't  want  to  go  away  how  would  you  make  her  do 
it  ?  Up  to  this  summer  we've  never  had  any  dis 
cussions  on  the  subject.  She  has  always  done  as  I 
said  and  gone  where  I  decided,  but  this  year  she  per 
sists  in  staying  in  this  dead-and-buried  place,  and 
says  she  don't  want  to  go  away.  She  is  very  well,  but 
she's  got  to  go  the  first  of  August." 

"Where  are  you  going  ?  Certainly  do  wish  I  had 
somebody  to  make  me  do  things.  Every  time  I  make 
up  my  mind  to  do  this,  I  wish  I'd  made  it  up  to  do 
that.  But  I'm  like  Lily.  I'm  more  comfortable  at 
home  than  anywhere  else,  and  I  don't  think  York- 
burg's  dead  and  buried.  Things  are  moving  too  fast 
for  me.  I  wish  I  could  make  them  stop  and  let  it 
stay  just  like  it  is  forever  and  ever.  Where  are  you 
going  in  August  ?" 

Mrs.  Deford  turned  and  looked  at  Miss  Puss,  her 
lorgnette  at  a  withering  angle.  "We  are  going  to  the 
coast  of  Maine."  She  took  up  her  embroidery  and 
held  it  off  at  arm's-length  to  get  its  effect.  "  How  is 
your  mother,  Lizzie  Bettie  ?" 

"Very  well,  thank  you,  though  she  thinks  she's 
sick.  I  want  mother  to  go  away.  I  wish  she  and 

171 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

Maria  could  go  to  the  coast  of  Maine.  Maria's  as 
nervous  as  a  cat,  and  if  she  don't  go  somewhere  we'll 
all  be  to  pieces  before  the  summer's  over.  Where 
will  you  stay,  Laura  ?  Is  it  very  expensive  ?  I've 
heard  some  places  up  there  are  very  cheap." 

"Cheap  ?  Nothing's  cheap  after  you  leave  Wash 
ington.  But  we  are  not  going  to  a  hotel.  We  are 
going  to  visit  friends." 

"Must  be  ashamed  of  them,  as  you  don't  mention 
their  names.  Wouldn't  have  asked  if  I'd  known  it 
was  a  secret."  And  Miss  Lizzie  Bettie  took  the  fan 
out  of  Miss  Georganna  Brickhouse's  hands  and  began 
to  use  it  as  if  hot  with  something  more  than  summer 
heat. 

"You  needn't  get  so  mad  about  it."  Mrs.  Deford 
threaded  her  needle  deliberately  with  a  strand  of 
scarlet  silk.  "And  if  you  are  so  very  anxious  to 
know  where  we  are  going  I  don't  mind  telling  you. 
We  are  to  be  Mrs.  Maxwell's  guests  for  the  month  of 
August." 

"  So  she's  asked  you  at  last,  has  she  ?  Knew 
you  were  terribly  afraid  she  wouldn't  ?"  Miss  Puss 
Jenkins  put  the  gouty  foot  on  the  dyspeptic  one  and 
rubbed  it  vigorously.  "I  heard  Mrs.  Maxwell's 
father  left  her  barrels  of  money  and  she's  rich  even 
for  New  York.  Is  she  ?  You  visit  her  and  ought  to 
know.  Somebody  was  telling  me  her  house  is  mag 
nificently  furnished,  and  she  tried  footmen  and 
butlers  in  livery,  but  she  couldn't  keep  that  up.  John 

172 


A   MORNING   TALK 

made  such  a  fuss  she  had  to  stop.  Mrs.  Maxwell 
always  was  the  most  pretentious,  ostentatious  sort  of 
person,  and  I  never  could  understand  how  her  son 
could  be  such  a  natural  kind  of  a  fellow  with  such  a 
mother.  He's  like  his  father.  They  say  his  father's 
family  was  rather  plain  once,  but  his  mother  comes  of 
very  good  New  Jersey  stock.  Mr.  Maxwell  was  a 
fine  man,  which  is  more  than  you  can  say  of  his  wife, 
and  I  never  did  have  any  use  for  her.  But  I  suppose 
if  she  invited  me  to  spend  a  month  with  her  in  her 
summer  home  I'd  go.  Didn't  somebody  tell  me  John 
had  gone  to  Europe  ?" 

Mrs.  Deford  turned  quickly.  "Who  said  so  ?" 
Miss  Puss  looked  at  Mrs.  Steele,  whose  little  boy, 
now  on  the  grass  playing  with  the  dog,  was  satis 
factorily  disposed  of.  "Who  told  us,  Annie  ?  Oh 
yes,  I  know.  It  was  Miss  Gibbie  Gault.  We  met 
her  in  the  library  yesterday  morning  and  she  said  she 
and  Mary  Gary  were  going  away  on  the  twenty-first 
of  this  month  and  stay  until  the  middle  of  September. 
I  asked  her  where  John  was  going.  A  blind  man 
could  see  he  is  in  love  with  Mary,  and  I  thought  he'd 
be  with  them,  but  Miss  Gibbie  said  he  was  going  to 
Norway,  or  was  it  Russia,  Annie  ?  I  declare  I  haven't 
a  bit  of  memory  But,  anyhow,  he  was  going  some 
where  and  wasn't  to  be  with  Miss  Gibbie  this  summer, 
I  wonder  if  Mary  has  kicked  him!" 

"  Kicked  him  ?"     Mrs.  Deford's  lips  twisted  in  an 
up-curling  movement  and  her  eyebrows  lifted,  ridging 

173 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

her  forehead  in  fine  little  furrows.  Again  she  held  off 
her  embroidery  and  looked  at  it.  "Mary  Gary  will 
never  have  the  chance  to  discard  John  Maxwell. 
He  is  sorry  for  her  and  is  very  kind  to  her.  He  knew 
her  when  she  was  in  the  asylum  here,  but  he  has 
about  as  much  idea  of  marrying  her  as  of  marry- 
ing- 

"Lily.  That's  just  what  I  was  saying  the  other 
day,"  and  Miss  Georganna  Brickhouse  took  off  her 
spectacles  and  wiped  them.  "Some  one  told  me  he 
heard  John  and  Lily  were  engaged,  but  I  knew  it 
wasn't  so.  A  man  can't  even  be  polite  to  a  girl  these 
days  without  somebody  gobbling  him  up  and  telling 
him  he's  done  for.  I  told  whoever  it  was  told  me  I 
knew  John's  mother  had  her  eye  on  something  better 
known  in  the  newspapers  than  Lily  or  Mary,  either, 
and  she'd  never  let  him  marry  in  Yorkburg  if  she 
could  help  it.  Everybody  says  he's  a  fine  man  and  a 
girl  would  do  well  to  catch  him,  but — " 

"He'll  never  be  caught  by  Mary  Gary.  She's 
tried  hard  enough.  It's  a  pity  somebody  don't  tell 
her  how  it  looks  to  be  seen  going  about  with  him  as 
she  does.  She  hardly  lets  him  get  out  of  her  sight 
when  he's  in  town.  I  invited  them  to  tea  the  last  time 
they  were  here  and  she  wouldn't  let  him  come;  kept 
him  at  her  house,  made  some  flimsy  excuse,  and  had 
the  evening  with  him  to  herself.  She's  tried  her  best 
to  get  him,  but — " 

Miss  Lizzie  Bettie  Pryor  took  up  her  gloves  and 


A   MORNING   TALK 

pulled  out  each  finger  separately.  "She's  done 
nothing  of  the  kind,  Laura,  and  you  know  it.  I've 
got  no  sympathy  with  some  of  the  things  she's  doing 
here,  but  Mary's  not  trying  to  marry  anybody.  I'll 
say  that  much  for  her.  I'm  surprised  to  hear  John  is 
going  to  Europe  again.  People  step  over  there  now 
just  like  it  was  across  the  street." 

Mrs.  Deford  looked  Miss  Lizzie  Bettie  in  the  face, 
and  this  time  her  head  was  not  on  the  side.  "  John 
Maxwell  has  no  idea  of  going  to  Europe.  I  am 
better  qualified  to  speak  of  John's  movements  than 
Miss  Gibbie.  I  have  very  good  reasons  for  being 
better  qualified."  She  hesitated,  tapped  her  lips 
significantly  with  her  lorgnette,  and  smiled  myste 
riously.  "Poor  Miss  Gibbie!  It  won't  be  her  fault 
if  Mary  Gary  don't  marry  John.  She's  done  her 
best  to  run  him  down." 

"  Miss  Gibbie  may  be  a  crank  all  right,  but  when 
she  says  a  thing  is  so,  it  is  so."  Miss  Lizzie 
Bettie's  gloves  came  down  with  emphasis  on  the 
palm  of  her  right  hand.  "And  if  she  says  John 
is  going  abroad,  he  is  certainly  going.  I  don't  think 
it  is  very  polite  of  him  if  his  mother  has  invited  you 
and  Lily  to  spend  August  with  her,  but  I  never  saw 
a  man  in  my  life  who  had  good  manners  when  they 
interfered  with  his  pleasure.  It  was  your  brother 
who  told  me  he'd  heard  John  and  Lily  were  engaged  " 
— she  turned  to  Miss  Georganna  Brickhouse — "and, 
like  you,  I  told  him  I  didn't  believe  there  was  a  word 

175 


MISS    G1BBIE   GAULT 

of  truth  in  it.     But  if  Laura  doesn't  deny  it,  maybe 
there  is." 

Mrs.  Deford  got  up  and  shook  her  skirt.  "Do 
any  of  you  see  my  needle  ?  I've  dropped  it  some 
where.  Where  did  Miss  Gibbie  say  she  and  Mary 
were  going,  Puss  ?  She  gives  much  information 
about  others,  but  never  about  herself.  Where  are 
they  going  ?" 

"Here's  your  needle."  Mrs.  Steele  held  it  toward 
Mrs.  Deford.  "  She  didn't  say  just  where  they  were 
going,  did  she,  Miss  Puss  ? "  Mrs.  Steele,  who 
talked  little  and  agreed  always  with  the  last  one  who 
spoke,  looked  at  the  lady  rubbing  the  foot  that  felt 
as  if  it  had  no  feeling  in  it,  and  nodded  toward  her. 
"She  said  something  about  Nova  Scotia,  I  believe, 
and  Boston  in  September,  as  Mary  wanted  to  see 
some  schools  up  there,  but  she  didn't  mention  just 
where  they  were  going." 

"Of  course  she  didn't.  And  if  Yorkburg  knew 
what  was  good  for  it,  all  these  Yankee  ideas  Mary 
Gary  is  bringing  down  here  would  be  stopped.  She 
spends  money  in  every  direction,  sends  this  person 
away  and  that  one  away,  and  gives  picnics  and  parties 
to  people  nobody  ever  heard  of  until  lately.  People 
of  that  class  are  ruined  by  having  the  things  done  for 
them  that  she  is  doing.  After  a  while  they'll  be 
wanting  to  move  up  on  King  Street  and  expect  us  to 
speak  to  them  as  if  they  were  our  friends." 

"  She  says  they  are  hers." 
176 


A   MORNING   TALK 

"Perhaps  they  are."  Mrs.  Deford's  lips  again 
made  their  favorite  curve.  ''She  evidently  has  a 
strong  leaning  toward  poor  whites.  But  there  is  one 
direction  in  which  she  will  lean  in  vain,  and  that  is — 
Oh,  well — "  She  put  her  head  on  the  side  and 
shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  I  really  feel  very  sorry  for 
her,  but  a  girl  can't  make  a  man  love  her  just  because 
she  wants  him  to." 

"And  a  woman  can't  make  a  man  marry  where 
she'd  like  him  to."  Miss  Lizzie  Bettie  pinned  on  her 
hat  hurriedly.  "That's  a  black  cloud  coming  toward 
us.  If  we  don't  look  out  we'll  get  caught  in  a  storm. 
When  congratulations  are  in  order  let  us  know. 
Good-bye.  Come  on,  Miss  Puss."  And  without 
further  waste  of  words  she  was  gone. 

In  the  street  she  and  Miss  Puss  hurried  in  one  di 
rection,  Mrs.  Steele  and  Miss  Georganna  in  an 
other,  and  half-way  home  the  rain  began  to  fall. 
The  one  parasol  was  hastily  opened  and  held  close 
down  over  their  heads,  so  close  that  a  couple  coming 
toward  them  with  umbrella  held  in  the  same  position 
as  theirs  bumped  into  them.  With  a  hurried  apol 
ogy  they  passed  on,  but  not  before  Miss  Lizzie  Bettie 
had  seen  who  they  were. 

She  turned  and  looked  behind  and  then  at  Miss 
Puss.  "  A  new  way  to  come  from  Sarah  Sue  Moon's 
house,"  she  said.  "That's  the  second  time  this  week 
I've  seen  them  together." 

"Who  is  it?"  Miss  Puss  pulled  her  skirts  up 

177 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

higher  and  stepped  carefully  aside  from  a  puddle  of 
water.  "I  can't  see  a  thing  with  your  parasol  right 
over  my  face.  Who  was  it  ?" 

"Lily  Deford  and  that  Pugh  boy.  The  one  who 
stays  in  the  bank." 

"What!"  Miss  Puss  stopped  in  the  now  pouring 
rain.  "In  broad  daylight?  I've  heard  they've  been 
seen  together  several  times  lately  in  the  evenings. 
His  father  keeps  a  livery  stable  and  his  father  before 
him!  Do  you  suppose  Laura  knows  ?" 

"Of  course  she  doesn't!  Lily's  soul  doesn't  belong 
to  her,  and  if  her  mother  knew  this  boy  was  in  love 
with  her — well,  she  mightn't  kill  him,  but  he'd  be 
safer  out  of  sight.  Of  all  the  ambitious  mothers  I've 
ever  seen —  Do  pray  hurry,  Miss  Puss!  We'll  be 
drenched  if  you  don't  walk  faster!" 


XV 


BUZZIE 

HO  in  the  world  would  have  thought  this 
morning  it  was  going  to  rain  like  this  ? 
But  that's  weather;  you  never  can  tell  what 
it's  going  to  do.  Just  like  women.  Good 
gracious!  Did  you  see  that  flash  of 
lightning  ?" 

Mrs.  Tate,  sitting  on  Mrs.  Moon's  front  porch, 
clapped  her  hands  to  her  ears  and  shut  her  eyes 
tight,  then  got  up  quickly.  "You  all  may  stay  out 
here  if  you  want  to,  but  I'm  going  in.  I  never  did 
think  it  was  right  to  tempt  Providence,  and  if  there 
was  a  feather  bed  in  the  house  I'd  get  on  it.  Can't 
the  windows  be  lowered,  Beth,  and  somebody  start 
the  pianola  and  turn  on  the  lights  ?  A  thunder 
storm  like  this  gives  me  such  a  sinking  feeling  in  my 
stomach  I  feel  like  I'm  sitting  on  a  trap-door  with  a 
broken  catch.  My  love!  there  goes  another  one!" 
Mrs.  Moon  laughed  and  got  up.  "I  guess  we  had 
better  go  in,  Mrs.  Burnham,  the  porch  is  getting  so 
wet.  I  hope  Miss  Georganna  Brickhouse  and  Mrs. 
Steele  got  home  before  the  rain.  I  saw  them  coming 

179 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

from  Mrs.  Deford's  just  now."  She  pulled  the  chairs 
quickly  forward  as  a  sudden  heavy  deluge  beat  in 
almost  to  the  door,  and  called  to  the  maid  to  lower 
the  windows;  then,  inside  the  sitting-room,  took  up 
her  sewing,  Mrs.  Burnham  taking  up  hers  also. 

But  sewing  was  not  for  Mrs.  Tate.  As  another 
peal  of  thunder  drowned  the  downpour  of  rain  she 
ran  to  the  sofa  and  piled  around  her  the  cushions 
upon  it.  Putting  one  under  her  feet,  another  on  her 
head,  and  clasping  one  close  to  her  breast  with  her 
crossed  arms,  she  closed  her  eyes  tight  and  sat  in 
huddled  terror  waiting  for  the  storm  to  pass. 

Neither  lightning  nor  thunder  could  silence  her 
tongue,  however,  and,  though  at  some  distance  from 
the  window  near  which  Mrs.  Moon  and  Mrs.  Burn- 
ham  were  sitting,  she  talked  on  with  slight  regard  to 
their  attention,  from  time  to  time  opening  her  eyes, 
only  to  shut  them  quickly  again  if  a  flash  of  lightning 
caused  fresh  fright. 

"I  might  have  known  it  was  going  to  storm  like 
this,"  she  said  after  a  while,  "for  last  night  was  the 
hottest  night  I  ever  felt  in  my  life.  When  I  went  to 
bed  I  didn't  think  I  was  going  to  sleep  a  wink*,  and  I 
wouldn't  if  I'd  stayed  awake  and  thought  about  it. 
The  mosquitoes  were  perfectly  awful.  Biggest  things 
I  ever  saw.  I  thought  once  there  were  bats  in  the 
room.  Sakes  alive!  that  reminds  me  I  haven't 
ordered  a  thing  for  dinner!  I  didn't  intend  to  stay 
here  a  minute;  just  stopped  by  on  my  way  to  Mr. 

180 


BUZZIE 

Blick's,  and  here  it  is  after  one  o'clock!  I  get  so 
tired  of  those  everlasting  three  meals  a  day  that  I 
almost  wish  there  were  no  such  things  as  stomachs. 
I  would  wish  it  if  Mr.  Tate  wasn't  in  the  feed  busi 
ness.  Half  one's  time  is  spent  in  getting  something 
to  put  in  them  and  the  other  half  in  suffering  from 
what  we  put.  Do  you  all  ever  have  dyspepsia  ?  I  do 
— awful.  And  not  a  doctor  in  town  knows  what  to 
do  for  it.  I  take  more  medicine—" 

"  Maybe  that  is  what  gives  it  to  you/'  Mrs.  Burn- 
ham  looked  at  Mrs.  Moon  and  smiled.  When  she 
first  came  to  Yorkburg  she  had  wondered  why  Mrs. 
Tate  was  called  "Buzzie,"  but  she  had  long  since 
found  out,  also  the  fitness  of  the  appellation.  "I 
guess  I  am  queer  about  medicine,"  she  went  on, 
bending  over  to  see  if  there  were  any  breaks  in  the 
clouds.  "I  rarely  take  it.  There  is  nothing  so  apt 
to  keep  you  sick." 

"That's  so.  And  after  a  while  we'll  all  have  to  be 
Christian  Scientists  or  New  Thoughters  or  some  other 
thing  that  don't  call  in  doctors.  I  wish  I  was  one 
this  minute.  I'd  rather  think  something  than  swal 
low  something,  and  nobody  but  the  rich  can  afford  to 
be  sick  these  days.  If  you  say  you've  got  a  plain 
everyday  sort  of  pain  the  doctor  puts  a  name  on  it 
and  yanks  you  to  a  hospital  and  cuts  it  out  before 
he's  sure  what  the  thing  really  is.  If  you  live  you're 
lucky.  If  you  don't — well,  you're  dead.  That's 
all.  And  if  you're  tired  out  and  fidgety  and  feel  like 

181 


crying  as  much  as  you  want  to,  they  say  you're  a 
nervous  prostrationer  and  tie  you  to  a  trained  nurse 
at  twenty-five  dollars  a  week,  and  don't  let  you  see 
friend  or  relative  until  you're  better  or  worse.  I  tell 
you  Mr.  Tate  would  go  crazy  if  he  had  to  hand  out 
twenty-five  dollars  a  week  to  have  a  girl  in  white  wait 
on  me.  And  I  wouldn't  blame  him.  If  I  were  a 
young  man  I'd  think  a  long  time  before  I'd  get  mar 
ried  these  days.  A  man  wouldn't  buy  a  horse  unless 
he  knew  it  was  healthy,  but  he'd  marry  a  girl  without 
knowing.  But  I  never  saw  a  man  who  wouldn't 
rather  butt  his  own  head  his  own  way  than  be  told 
he  didn't  have  to,  and  nobody  gets  thanked  for  tell 
ing.  Mercy!  I'm  hot;  nearly  melting.  Is  it  still 
raining,  Beth  ?" 

Mrs.  Moon  got  up  and  raised  the  window.  "Not 
very,  much,  and  the  clouds  seem  to  be  scattering.  I 
should  think  you  would  be  roasting,  way  over  in  that 
corner  with  all  those  cushions  around  you.  Why 
don't  you  come  by  the  window?  The  air  feels  so 
fresh  and  good." 

"No,  sir!"  Mrs.  Tate  opened  her  eyes,  bu{  closed 
them  quickly  again.  "There  goes  another  flash  of 
lightning!  The  thunder  is  getting  better,  but  I'm 
not  going  to  sit  by  an  open  window  as  long  as  there's 
any  of  it  left.  But  I'm  hot,  all  right.  Seems  to  me 
Yorkburg  is  a  great  deal  hotter  in  summer  now  than 
it  used  to  be.  That's  only  natural,  I  suppose,  as 
everything  in  Yorkburg  has  changed.  If  old  General 

182 


BUZZIE 

Wright  and  Mr.  Brockenborough  and  Major  Alden 
and  Judge  Gault  and  some  others  of  their  day  could 
come  back  they  wouldn't  know  it.  They  were  the 
lordliest,  high-handedest  bunch  of  old  aristocrats 
that  ever  lived,  and  they  ruled  this  town  like  they 
owned  it.  Specially  Major  Alden.  He  didn't  have' 
a  bit  of  business  sense,  Father  Tate  used  to  say,  but 
he'd  had  money  all  his  life  and  he  would  spend  it; 
and  when  there  wasn't  any  to  spend  he  spent  on  just 
the  same.  Major  Alden  didn't  really  believe  the 
Almighty  made  common  people.  He  thought  they 
came  up  like  weeds  and  underbrush  and,  though  you 
couldn't  cut  them  down  exactly,  you  must  keep  them 
down  somehow.  He  really  believed  it.  Some  people 
think  so  now." 

"Certainly  his  granddaughter  doesn't."  Mrs. 
Burnham  put  down  her  work  and  took  up  a  palm- 
leaf  fan  and  began  to  use  it,  running  her  ringer 
around  the  neck  of  her  collar  to  loosen  it.  "  I  don't 
think  anybody  in  Yorkburg  begins  to  understand 
what  Mary  Gary  is  doing  here,  or  what  she  means  to 
certain  people — " 

"I  don't  suppose  we  do" — Mrs.  Moon  started  to 
say  something,  but  Mrs.  Tate  was  ahead  of  her — 
"  And  no  one  in  the  world  would  ever  have  imagined 
Mary  would  do  things  like  that.  But  that's  Mary. 
From  childhood  no  one  ever  knew  what  she'd  be  doing 
next.  She  certainly  is  looking  pretty,  but  she  isn't  the 
beauty  her  mother  was.  I'm  like  Miss  Gibbie  in  one 
13  183 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

thing.  I  believe  in  a  sure-enough  hell.  They  say 
real  smart  people  don't  any  more  except  preachers 
who  have  to  and  women  who  want  to.  Miss  Gibbie 
says  she  wouldn't  believe  in  it  if  it  hadn't  been  for  the 
war,  but  I  believe  in  it  because  some  things  have  to  be 
burned  out,  and  Major  Alden  needed  to  have  his 
pride  purified.  You  knew  he  used  to  be  a  beau  of 
Miss  Gibbie's,  didn't  you  ?" 

Mrs.  Burnham  shook  her  head.  "No,  I  know 
little  of  Yorkburg's  personal  history." 

"Well,  he  was.  She  never  was  a  raging  beauty, 
but  she  had  more  men  in  love  with  her  than  any  girl 
she  ever  knew,  mother  used  to  say,  and  more  sense 
than  all  the  rest  put  together.  That's  what  I  think 
was  so  funny.  Men  don't  care  for  sense  in  a  woman. 
If  she  can  sign  coal  tickets  and  market  tickets,  and 
look  after  them,  and  be  good-looking  and  nice  it's  all 
they  care  for.  I  never  knew  how  to  make  out  a  check 
until  my  own  daughter  showed  me.  What's  the  use  ? 
Never  had  a  dollar  in  bank  in  my  life.  Mr.  Tate's 
the  kind  of  man  who  thinks  a  woman  ought  to  come 
to  her  husband  for  everything,  and  as  he  never  gives 
me  money  unless  I  ask  for  it,  and  I  don't  ask  until  I 
need  it  to  spend  right  away,  it  has  no  chance  to  get  in 
a  bank.  I  don't  mean  I  have  to  worry  Mr.  Tate. 
He  gives  me  all  he  can,  and,  besides,  I  always  did 
think  it  was  a  mistake  in  a  woman  to  know  too  much 
about  business  things.  Men  don't  like  it.  I've 
always  made  it  a  rule  never  to  do  anything  Mr.  Tate 

184 


BUZZIE 

could  do  for  me.  Fve  often  noticed  one  or  the  other 
is  going  to  be  helpless,  and  I'd  rather  be  waited  on 
than  wait." 

She  settled  herself  more  comfortably  on  the  sofa 
and  again  opened  her  eyes  cautiously.  "Of  course 
I'm  old-fashioned.  Young  people  have  very  dif 
ferent  ideas  from  their  parents.  Girls  plank  them 
selves  right  straight  alongside  of  men  and  say  they 
are  just  as  smart  as  men  are.  Of  course  they  are. 
Women  have  always  known  it,  but  they  used  to  have 
too  much  sense  to  tell  it.  Nowadays  they  tell 
everything.  The  easiest  thing  on  earth  to  fool  is  a 
mam  He  just  naturally  loves  helplessness,  and  when 
Aylette  married  I  told  her  for  mercy's  sake  not  to  be 
one  of  these  new-fashioned  kind  of  wives,  but  be  a 
clinger.  She  doesn't  like  clingers,and  sometimes  I'm 
afraid  she's  too  smart  to  be  real  happy.  She  takes 
after  her  grandfather  Tate.  I  certainly  do  thank  the 
Lord  He  didn't  see  fit  to  make  me  clever.  I've  often 
heard  my  mother  say  a  smart  woman  had  a  hard  time 
in  life." 

"  I  wonder  why  Miss  Gibbie  did  not  marry."  Mrs. 
Burnham  was  looking  at  Mrs.  Moon.  "If  she  had 
so  many  beaux  it  is  strange  she  did  not  marry." 

'"'Now  who  on  earth  could  think  of  Miss  Gibbie 
Gault  being  married!"  The  cushion  dropped  from 
the  top  of  Mrs.  Tate's  head  and  she  stooped  to 
pick  it  up.  "Her  independent  tongue  was  laughed 
at  and  her  witty  speeches  repeated,  but  what  home 

185 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 
could  have  stood  her  ?     She  knew  better  than  to  get 

O 

married.  If  she  ever  loved  anybody,  nobody  ever 
knew  it,  mother  used  to  say,  but  I  always  have  be 
lieved  she  did.  She  certainly  is  one  queer  person. 
Mrs.  Porter  asked  her  last  week  to  give  something 
to  the  choir  fund  and  she  said  she'd  do  nothing  of 
the  kind,  and  she  thought  the  people  ought  to  be  paid 
for  having  to  listen  to  squeaks  like  we  had  instead  of 
paying  them  to  squeak,  and  she  wouldn't  give  a  cent. 
She  holds  on  to  what  she's  got  like  paper  to  the  wall, 
Mrs.  Porter  says." 

Mrs.  Moon  got  up  and  pressed  the  button  by  the 
door,  and  when  the  maid  appeared  spoke  to  her. 

"Mrs.  Tate  and  Mrs.  Burnham  will  stay  to  dinner, 
Harriet.  See  that  there  are  places  at  the  table  for 
them." 

"Indeed  I  can't  stay  to  dinner."  Mrs.  Tate 
jumped  up  and  came  toward  the  window  "  I  believe 
it's  stopped  raining,  and  if  the  thunder  is  over  I'll 
have  to  run  on  home.  When  I  left  there  everything 
looked  like  scrambled  eggs,  and  nobody  knows  where 
I  am,  and  I  wouldn't  telephone  just  after  a  storm  for 
forty  dollars.  There's  the  sun.  I'm  going.  %Good- 
bye."  And  picking  up  her  skirts  with  both  hands 
she  ran  down  the  steps  and  out  into  the  street  and 
across  it  to  her  house,  half-way  down  the  square. 

Coming  back  from  the  door  to  which  they  had  fol 
lowed  her,  Mrs.  Moon  and  Mrs.  Burnham  laughed 
good-naturedly.  "How  do  you  suppose  she  man- 

186 


BUZZIE 

ages  it  ?"  both  asked,  and  then  laughed  again  at  the 
oneness  of  thought. 

"I've  often  wondered  why  she  didn't  lose  breath," 
said  Mrs.  Burnham,  taking  her  seat  this  time  in  the 
hall  for  the  few  minutes  longer  she  could  stay.  "  But 
I  wouldn't  dare  try  to  see  how  she  does  it.  She's 
worse  than  Mrs.  McDougal.  Did  you  hear  of  the 
letter  she  wrote  Miss  Gibbie  ?  Mrs.  McDougal,  I 
mean.  I'm  so  glad  she's  coming  home  before  we  go 
away.  To  hear  her  tell  of  her  trip  will  be  better  than 
the  minstrels.  When  are  you  going  away,  Mrs. 
Moon  ?" 

The  latter  shook  her  head.  "I  don't  know.  I'm 
trying  to  make  Mr.  Moon  go  with  me,  but  I'm  afraid 
there's  no  use  in  even  hoping  it.  Richard  says  it's 
for  the  family  he  is  working  as  he  does,  and  he  is 
honest  in  thinking  it,  but  if  I  and  the  children  were 
to  die  to-morrow  he'd  begin  the  day  after  the  funeral 
and  keep  at  it  just  as  persistently  as  ever." 

Mrs.  Burnham  looked  down  at  her  work  as  if  ex 
amining  closely  the  stitches  she  had  just  put  in. 
Mr.  Moon  was  the  richest  man  in  Yorkburg,  but  not 
for  years  had  he  and  his  wife  gone  off  together  for  a 
holiday.  Presently  she  looked  up.  "  Men  are  queer, 
aren't  they  ?  I  suppose  all  wives  wish  sometimes 
they  could  mix  up,  as  one  does  dough,  a  whole  bunch 
of  husbands  and  cut  them  out  in  new  patterns  with 
some  of  each  other's  qualities  in  each.  There's  Mr. 
Corbin.  He  doesn't  work  enough.  Mr.  Moon 

187 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

works  too  much.  I  saw  Mr.  Corbin  on  his  front 
porch  the  other  day  reading  Plato's  Republic  as 
though  it  were  the  first  reading.  It  was  the  third  he 
told  me.  Mr.  Moon — " 

"Never  heard  of  Plato's  Republic,  or  if  he  did  has 
forgotten  it."  Mrs.  Moon  laughed,  but  as  pushing 
back  a  sigh.  "His  republic  is  Yorkburg  and  the 
mills.  He  can  never  go  away.  Often  I  wonder  if 
it  is  worth  it,  the  money  he  is  making.  He  gives  me 
everything  on  earth  but  what  I  want  most." 

Mrs.  Burnham  again  bent  over  her  work.  "A 
woman  has  to  pay  full  price  for  a  successful  hus 
band,"  she  said,  presently.  "Perhaps  Mr.  Cor- 
bin's  philosophy  isn't  all  wrong.  He  has  no  wealth, 
no  fame,  no  great  position,  but  he  has  gotten  some 
thing  out  of  life  many  men  miss." 

"And  his  wife  has  gotten  much  some  other  women 
miss.  Men  who  make  money  never  seem  to  have  time 
to  enjoy  it  until  too  late.  In  business  it's  the  game 
men  love.  They  build  big  houses,  fill  them  with  fine 
furniture  and  servants,  give  their  wives  beautiful 
clothes  and  carriages — and  then  find  they  have  no 
home.  I  wish  I  didn't  feel  as  I  do  about  money,  but 
I've  come  to  see  it's  the  most  separating  thing  on 
earth." 

She  stopped  and  laughed  with  something  of  em 
barrassment.  "This  is  a  queer  subject  you  and  I 
have  drifted  into.  We  both  have  husbands  of  whom 
we  should  be  proud,  but — "  Her  lips  quivered. 


BUZZIE 

"Men  say  women  don't  understand.  Perhaps  they 
don't;  but  when  Mr.  Moon  was  not  so  busy  and  we 
could  take  the  buggy,  shabby  though  it  was,  and  go 
for  a  long  afternoon  in  the  country  and  talk  over  our 
plans,  and  whether  we  could  afford  this  or  whether 
that,  it  was  a  far  happier  ride  than  I  take  now  in  the 
automobile.  He  gave  me  one  this  spring,  but  he  has 
no  time  to  go  with  me."  Her  eyes  rilled.  "There 
are  some  things  women  understand  too  well," 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence,  then  she  drew  her 
chair  closer  to  the  open  door.  "But  a  woman 
shouldn't  be  silly,  should  she  ?  I  often  think  of  what 
my  old  mammy  told  me  the  day  I  was  married. 
*  Don't  never  forget,  honey,  that  what  you's  marryin' 
is  a  man,'  she  said,  'and  don't  be  expectin'  of  all  the 
heavenly  virtues  in  him.  They  ain't  thar.'  " 

Mrs.  Burnham  laughed.  "They  are  not.  In  a 
woman  'they  ain't  thar,'  either.  Miss  Matoaca 
Brockenborough  says  from  observation  there  is  some 
thing  to  be  said  on  both  sides."  She  looked  up. 
"You  knew  Miss  Matoaca  was  going  away  with  Miss 
Gibbie  Gault  and  Mary  Gary,  didn't  you  ?  She 
hasn't  been  out  of  Yorkburg  for  years  and  is  as  ex 
cited  about  it  as  if  she  were  sixteen.  She's  going  as 
Mary's  guest,  you  know." 

"Yes,  I  know."  Mrs.  Moon's  voice  was  suddenly 
troubled.  "It  is  all  right,  of  course,  but  I  can't  un 
derstand  why  Mary  keeps  things  so  to  herself.  It 
isn't  like  her.  She  isn't  rich.  Her  uncle  is,  but  I'm 

189 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

sure  it  isn't  his  money  she's  spending.  Last  week 
Miss  Ginnie  Grant  and  her  old  mother  were  sent  off 
for  a  month's  stay  in  the  mountains.  I  don't  un 
derstand — " 

"I  don't,  either."  Mrs.  Burnham  got  up  and 
smiled  in  the  perplexed  face  before  her.  "  But  when 
the  time  comes  we  will  all  understand,  and  until  then 
I'm  willing  to  wait.  Mary  is  acting  for  some  one 
else,  I  suppose.  Several  people  have  been  suggested, 
some  men,  some  women.  Somebody  said  they'd 
heard  a  very  rich  patient  of  her  uncle's  out  in  Michi 
gan  was  sending  her  the  money  to  use  as  she  saw 
best,  and  others  say  John  Maxwell  got  some  one  to 
buy  the  bonds  for  him,  but — " 

"I  don't  believe  it's  John.  Of  course  I  don't 
know."  Mrs.  Moon  got  up.  "I  wish  you  would 
stay  to  dinner.  We  have  peach  cream  to-day.  It's 
very  nice.  You'd  better  stay." 

"I  wish  I  could.  Peach  cream  is  terribly  tempt 
ing,  but  if  I'm  not  at  the  table  Mr.  Burnham  is  as  in 
jured  as  if  I'd  done  him  a  grievous  wrong.  He's  the 
only  child  I  have,  you  know,  and  I  guess  he's 
rather—"  ^ 

Mrs.  Moon  smiled  in  the  laughing  face.  "I  guess 
he  is.  Good-bye." 


XVI 


W 


MEN   AND    HUSBANDS 

HEN  Mrs.  Burnham  reached  the  house  in 
which  Miss  Gibbie  lived  she  hesitated  for 
a  moment,  hand  on  the  gate,  then  opened 
it  and  walked  slowly  up  the  brick  box- 
bordered  path  to  the  steps  of  the  pillared 
porch.  The  door  was  open,  and  inside  was 
Miss  Gibbie,  the  morning  paper  in  her  hand. 

A  quick,  absorbing  glance  took  in  each  detail  of  the 
well-kept  grounds,  the  beds  of  old-fashioned  flowers, 
the  fine  old  trees  and  stately  house,  but  not  until  the 
porch  was  reached  did  she  look  toward  the  open  door. 
As  she  neared  it  she  lowered  her  parasol,  and  at  its 
click  Miss  Gibbie's  eyes  peered  over  the  top  of  the 
paper  and  looked  at  her. 
"Good-morning!     May  I  come  in?" 
Miss  Gibbie  put  the  paper  on  the  chair  by  her  side, 
took  off  her  glasses,  wiped  them,  put  them  back,  and 
again  looked  at  her  visitor. 

"Not  until  I  look  at  you  for  half  a  minute,"  she 
said.  "  Raise  that  parasol  and  stand  just  where  you 
are.  There!  That's  right!  In  the  doorway  you 

191 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

look  like  a  Roisart  I  saw  some  years  ago  in  France. 
I  wanted  to  buy  it,  but  the  man  imagined  I  was  one 
of  those  fool  Americans  who  value  a  thing  according 
to  its  price,  and  charged  what  he  thought  he  could 
get.  He  got  nothing.  Come  in.  Do  you  make  your 
own  clothes  ?" 

"I  make  my  summer  ones."  Mrs.  Burnham's 
face  lighted  with  amusement,  and,  as  she  took  the 
chair  Miss  Gibbie  pushed  toward  her,  she  brushed 
back  the  stray  strands  of  hair  the  breeze  had  blown 
across  her  face,  and  fastened  them  securely. 

"I  told  some  one  the  other  day  you  were  an  illus 
tration  of  what  I  have  always  contended,  and  that  is 
a  woman  can  look  well  in  very  inexpensive  clothes  if 
she  has  sense  enough  to  get  the  right  kind.  I  hear 
you  have  a  good  deal  of  sense." 

"  I  have  in  some  things."  Mrs.  Burnham  laughed 
and  took  the  fan  Miss  Gibbie  held  toward  her.  "  I've 
shown  it  to-day  by  coming  to  see  you.  Of  course  I 
shouldn't,  according  to  regulations,  as  you  won't 
come  to  see  me,  but  I  wanted  to  see  you  and  so  I 
came.  Do  you  mind — that  I  have  come  ?" 

The  sweet,  fine  face  of  the  questioner  flushetl  and, 
at  sight  of  it,  Miss  Gibbie  smiled,  then  tapped  it  with 
the  tip  of  the  turkey-wing  fan. 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  come.  You  are  so  fresh  and 
cool  in  that  white  dress  it's  good  to  look  at  you.  Did 
you  go  to  the  lecture  last  night  ?  I  hear  the  Mother's 
Club  is  made  up  of  old  maids  and  childless  married 

192 


MEN   AND   HUSBANDS 

women;  but  as  they're  the  only  ones  who  know 
anything  about  children  nowadays,  it's  very  proper 
they  should  issue  edicts  concerning  them.  What  was 
the  lecture  about  ?" 

"'  Lungs  and  Livers/  And  it  was  fine.  It  really 
was.  How  to  breathe  properly  and  how  to  make 
your  liver  behave  itself  are  things  few  understand, 
according  to  Doctor  Mallby.  I  love  to  hear  him. 
He  gets  so  mad  with  ignorance  and  stupidity.  You 
would  have  enjoyed  him." 

"  I  never  go  to  organ  recitals."  Miss  Gibbie  waved 
her  fan  as  if  to  brush  away  unpleasant  suggestions. 
"  Have  you  seen  anything  of  the  Pryors  lately  ? 
Some  one  told  me  Lizzie  Bettie  was  trying  to  make 
her  mother  and  Maria  go  away.  The  whole  business 
ought  to  be  separated  from  each  other.  Nothing  so 
gets  on  your  nerves  as  seeing  the  same  sort  of  faces 
day  after  day.  And  of  course  they  wouldn't  think  it 
proper  to  smile  under  three  months  at  least." 

"They  certainly  seem  to  be  grieved  by  their  father's 
death.  I  had  no  idea  how  many  people  loved  Mr. 
Pryor,  or  how — " 

"Little  his  family  guessed  it.  They  took  William 
for  granted,  like  they  take  everything  else  in  life. 
And  now  it's  too  late  to  let  him  know  how  they  loved 
him.  My  dear" — Miss  Gibbie  leaned  forward  sud 
denly — "you  love  your  husband  ?  Then  tell  him  so. 
If  he  is  a  good  husband  tell  him  that  also.  There's 
nothing  a  man  can  stand  so  much  of  as  praise.  A 

193 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

woman  can  make  a  good  husband  out  of  almost 
any  kind  of  man  if  she  will  just  go  about  it 
right." 

"  But  suppose  she  doesn't  know  how  ?  It  takes  a 
long  time  for  women  to  understand  men." 

"  Do  they  ever  ?"  Miss  Gibbie's  penetrating  eyes 
were  losing  no  shade  of  the  color  rising  slowly  in  Mrs. 
Burnham's  face.  "But  isn't  it  because  they  spend 
so  much  time  wondering  why  men  don't  understand 
them  ?  The  best  of  men,  you  believe,  are  selfish  ? 
They  are.  I  am  not  one  of  the  people  who  thinks 
the  Lord  did  such  a  mighty  work  when  He  made 
man,  but  if  a  woman  can  make  up  her  mind  to  marry 
him,  it  is  generally  her  fault  if  she  doesn't  keep  his 
love  to  the  end — " 

"Oh,  I  don't  think  so!"  Mrs.  Burnham's  voice 
was  vehement  in  protest. 

"Of  course  you  don't.  You  are  a  married  woman. 
I  am  not.  I  did  not  say  always.  I  said  generally, 
and  I  mean  what  I  say.  My  dear" — again  Miss 
Gibbie  leaned  forward — "I  have  been  young  and 
now  am  old,  and  I  have  watched  many  lives.  With 
only  occasional  exceptions  a  woman  has  just  *about 
the  kind  of  husband  she  makes  the  man  she  marries 
become." 

"I  don't  think  that,  either.  A  man's  character  is 
supposedly  formed  before  he  marries;  and,  besides, 
a  woman  ought  not  to  be  required  to  make  the  kind 
of  husband  she  wants.  She  certainly  can't  make 

194 


MEN    AND    HUSBANDS 

him  intelligent,  or  brilliant,  or  able,  just  because  she 
wants  him  to  be." 

"I  never  said  anything  about  making  a  husband 
intelligent  or  brilliant  or  able.  Many  miserable 
wives  have  husbands  of  that  kind.  Any  woman  of 
sense  wants  a  man  of  sense — but  most  of  all  she  wants 
to  be  his  first  thought  in  life.  And  when  she  isn't 
it's  usually  because  of  selfishness  or  sensitiveness  or 
stupidity  on  her  part." 

"But  look  at  the  men  who  are — who  are — " 

"Who  are  what?"  Miss  Gibbie's  eyes  met  Mrs. 
Burnham's  steadily.  "Unfaithful?  And  why  ?  Oh, 
I  know  some  men  should  be  burned  up  like  garbage 
taken  from  the  kitchen  door,  but  I'm  talking  now  of 
the  man  who  starts  right,  starts  loving  his  wife.  If 
there's  anything  in  him  she  can  make  more.  The 
more  may  not  be  much,  but  it's  better  than  the 
less." 

"But  how?" 

"My  dear  madam" — the  turkey-wing  fan  made 
broad  and  leisurely  strokes  backward  and  forward — 
"you  are  asking  me  concerning  that  with  which  I 
have  no  experience,  merely  an  opinion.  I  never  felt 
equal  to  assuming  the  responsibility  of  a  man,  nor 
was  I  sure  the  reward  was  worth  the  effort.  But 
listen!"  The  fan  stopped.  "Had  I  been  willing  to 
marry  I  should  have  felt  the  blame  and  shame  were 
mine  had  I  not  kept  the  love  my  husband  gave  me 
and  increased  it  with  time." 

'9$ 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

Mrs.  Burnham  leaned  forward.  Her  hands  un 
consciously  clasped  tightly. 

"Tell  me,"  she  said,  "how  can  one  do  it  ?" 

"  In  what  way,  you  mean  ?  How  should  I  know  ? 
Besides,  it  would  depend  on  how  much  the  wife  loved 
her  husband,  how  much  she  wanted  to  keep  his  love. 
The  ways  would  be  as  varied  as  the  types  of  man  to 
be  dealt  with.  I've  never  seen  a  man  who  valued 
anything  he  got  too  easily,  anything  that  held  itself 
cheap,  and  the  woman  who  doesn't  inspire  some 
reverence — " 

"But  you  said  just  now  the  woman  ought  to  tell 
her  husband  how  much  she  loved  him." 

"  Did  I  ?  I  thought  I  said  she  ought  to  tell  him 
she  loved  him.  Men  love  to  pursue.  Something 
still  to  be  won,  something  that  may  be  lost,  is  some 
thing  he  should  never  forget.  Neither  should  she.  I 
did  say  just  now  a  man  could  stand  a  full  amount  of 
praise.  I've  known  good  husbands  made  of  mighty 
unpromising  material.  A  woman  of  tact  and  judg 
ment  can  do  much  with  little.  I've  seen  them  do  it." 

She  leaned  back  in  her  chair,  and  in  her  keen  gray 
eyes  was  a  gleam  of  the  gay  twinkle  of  her  youth. 

"It  isn't  bad  judgment  to  make  a  man  believe  he 
is  something.  He  is  by  nature  inclined  to  it,  and  a 
little  encouragement  is  good  for  most  people.  So  is 
a  better  understanding.  Most  miserable  marriages 
come  from  misunderstanding,  with  pride  and  stub 
bornness  as  its  cause.  I  once  knew  a  girl,  a  very 

196 


MEN   AND    HUSBANDS 

wealthy  girl,  whose  health  failed  shortly  after  she 
married.  Her  husband  was  young,  gay,  selfish. 
Got  to  leaving  her,  and  she  was  too  proud  to  let  him 
see  she  cared.  He  thought  she  didn't  care,  thought 
her  absorbed  in  herself.  One  night,  coming  in  late, 
he  saw  a  light  in  her  room  and  called  good-night  on 
the  way  to  his.  She  had  kept  the  light,  a  gas-lamp, 
by  her  side,  hoping  he  would  come  in.  There  was 
something  she  wanted  to  say,  so  she  wrote  in  the  note 
she  left,  but  when  he  passed  by  she  wrote  the  note, 
turned  her  face  to  the  lamp,  put  out  the  light  and 
turned  on  the  gas.  The  next  morning  they  found 
the  note  in  her  hand." 

Mrs.  Burnham  drew  in  her  breath.  "How  hor 
ribly  he  must  have  felt!" 

"He  did.  Didn't  marry  again  for  thirteen  months. 
The  next  wife  was  sensible.  There  was  no  more  suf 
fering  in  silence.  As  her  husband  he  walked  up 
right  forever  after." 

Mrs.  Burnham  twisted  her  handkerchief  around 
the  handle  of  her  fan.  "  I  feel  so  sorry  for  a  man 
when  he  loses  his  wife." 

"You  do  what?"  Miss  Gibbie's  voice  was  little 
less  than  a  shriek,  and  she  sat  upright,  her  fan  at 
arm's-length. 

O 

"Feel  sorry — "  The  look  on  Miss  Gibbie's  face 
stopped  her  and  her  own  flushed.  "Yes,  I  do,"  she 
protested,  bravely.  "Men  are  so  helpless  and  they 
seem  so  bewildered." 

197 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

Miss  Gibbie  lay  back,  relaxed  and  limp,  her  eyes 
closed.  "My  dear  child,  you  are  younger  than  I 
thought."  Her  eyes  opened  as  significantly  as  they 
had  closed,  and  the  turkey-wing  fan  tapped  one  pink 
cheek  and  then  the  other. 

"My  dear,  don't  worry  over  widowers.  For  the 
first  six  weeks  they  are  doubtless  troubled.  They 
don't  know  where  their  clothes  belong  and  they  can't 
find  their  shoes,  and  they're  learning  a  great  many 
things  they  didn't  know.  But  man  is  recuperative 
and  philosophic.  Oh,  I  don't  mean  all  men.  All 
men  are  no  more  alike  than  all  women,  only  aliker. 
But  you've  probably  never  watched  widowers  care 
fully.  I  have.  The  transformation  that  takes  place 
in  the  ex-husband  is  something  like  that  in  little  boys 
when  they  first  begin  to  notice  little  girls.  Both  use 
more  soap  and  water,  both  brush  their  hair  and  their 
clothes  more  carefully,  and  select  their  cravats  with 
more  caution,  and  there  isn't  a  piece  of  femininity 
that  passes  that  isn't  looked  at  with  speculation  in 
the  eye." 

She  waved  her  fan  with  a  comprehensive  sweep. 
"Even  the  most  modest  of  released  husbands  get 
inflated.  Of  course  if  there  are  children  there  are 
complications,  but  a  woman  generally  attends  to 
complications.  Haven't  you  ever  noticed  the  way  a 
first-year  widower  walks  ?  In  his  own  eyes  he's  a 
target,  and  those  eyes  are  always  roving  to  see  who  is 
looking  his  way.  He's  right,  for  a  good  many  women 

198 


MEN    AND    HUSBANDS 

look.  Men  have  a  large  capacity  for  loving,  and 
many  of  them  deserve  another  chance  at  happiness." 

Mrs.  Burnham  opened  her  handkerchief  and  wiped 
her  lips.  Somehow  it  was  shocking,  but  Miss  Gib- 
bie's  voice  was  beyond  resistance. 

"  But  surely  you  think  men  grieve  ?"  she  began. 

"Of  course  I  do.  Some  of  them  wouldn't  change 
if  they  could,  and  all  of  them  hate  interruptions. 
But  men  are  sensible.  With  them  something  ended 
is  over,  and  you  can't  do  business  with  a  broken 
heart.  And  business  is  what  man  is  made  for. 
Business  and  pleasure." 

"I  don't  think  men  forget."  In  Mrs.  Burnham's 
eyes  was  the  far-away  look  that  meant  the  memory  of 
other  days. 

"Perhaps  they  don't.  Just  cease  to  remember. 
Whichever  it  is,  I  approve  of  it,  envy  it.  There  are 
many  admirable  qualities  in  men.  As  I  said  just 
now,  the  average  man  will  make  a  good  husband  if 
he  has  any  encouragement,  and  all  a  woman  has  the 
right  to  ask  of  him  is  to  think  of  her  in  life.  Men  are 
not  much  on  memories.  They  want  something  defi 
nite  and  tangible,  and  memories  are  poor  company 
for  any  one." 

Mrs.  Burnham  looked  up.  The  banter  in  Miss 
Gibbie's  voice  had  changed  to  bitterness,  but  it  was 
gone  as  quickly  as  the  shadow  that  flitted  for  a 
moment  over  her  face. 

Miss  Gibbie  pushed  back  her  chair,  opened  the  bag 
14  199 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

hanging  from  her  belt,  and  took  from  it  a  handker 
chief  of  finest  thread,,  "Speaking  of  company  re 
minds  me  of  Mary,  whose  uncle  and  aunt,  three  chil 
dren  and  nurse  went  home  yesterday.  She's  been 
like  a  bird  since  they've  been  here.  Sang  in  her 
sleep  one  night,  she  was  so  happy  to  have  them.  But 
six  extra  people  for  three  weeks  is  wearing  on  flesh 
and  blood,  no  matter  how  much  you  love  them,  and 
she's  pretty  tired.  I  understand  you  and  Mary  are 
good  friends.  How  did  it  happen  ?" 

"She  made  it  happen.  It  was  when  my  baby 
died."  Mrs.  Burnham  hesitated  and  her  face 
whitened.  "I  don't  think  I  could  make  any  one 
understand  what  she  was  to  me  then.  When  we 
came  to  Yorkburg  I  was  an  entire  stranger,  and 
for  some  weeks  I  met  no  one  except  the  mem 
bers  of  my  husband's  church.  Many  of  the  lat 
ter  are  dear  and  lovely,  but  the  most  interesting 
from  a — " 

"Human  standpoint.     Go  on!" 

"  From  a  human  standpoint  were  the  mill  people, 
the  factory  people,  the  plain  people,  to  whom  Mr. 
Burnham  is  giving  his  life,  and  it  was  in  connection 
with  what  Miss  Gary  was  doing  that  we  met  her. 
At  first  I  could  not  do  very  much  to  help,  and  Mr. 
Burnham  was  so  busy  and  so  interested  he  didn't 
know  how  lonely  I  was — " 

"  Of  course.  So  busy  making  people  good  he  had 
little  time  to  make  his  wife  happy.  And  not  for  the 

200 


MEN   AND   HUSBANDS 

world  would  you  have  let  him  seen  you  were  lonely. 
Been  selfish,  wouldn't  it  ?" 

"Wouldn't  it  have  been  ?" 

"Selfish?  No.  Sensible.  My  dear,  there  are 
some  men  whose  heads  have  to  be  held  while  an 
opening  is  made  with  a  gimlet  before  they  will  take  a 
thing  in.  Your  husband  is  doubtless  a  good  man, 
but  doubtless  also  dense.  How  long  before  your 
baby  was  born  did  you  come  to  Yorkburg  ?" 

"Four  months.  We  had  been  married  six  years 
and  I  was  so  happy  over  its  coming  that  I  wanted  to 
help  in  everything,  and  tried  to  do  too  much.  When 
we  got  to  Yorkburg  I  had  to  be  very  quiet  and  the 
days  were  very  long.  Miss  Gary  was  one  of  the  first 
persons  who  called  on  me,  and  several  times  she  took 
me  to  drive.  Then  the  baby  came.  I  was  very  ill 
for  two  weeks  and  was  just  beginning  to  get  better, 
when  suddenly  the  baby  died." 

She  stopped.  Her  handkerchief,  twisted  into  a 
tight  cord,  was  knotted  nervously.  "I  can't  talk  of 
it.  I  had  waited  so  long,  I  so  wanted  a  child,  a  little 
child  of  my  own,  that  there  was  nothing  I  would  not 
have  suffered.  But  to  go  down  into  the  valley  of  the 
shadow — and  come  back  with  empty  arms — "  She 
drew  in  her  breath,  but  her  eyes  were  dry.  "Even 
Mr.  Burnham  didn't  understand.  He  was  distressed 
and  disappointed,  but  because  I  got  well  nothing  else 
seemed  to  matter  much.  But  he  didn't  know— no 
man  can  know — the  awful  ache  in  your  heart,  the 

201 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

awful  emptiness  of  your  arms  when  your  baby  is  taken 
out  of  them.  One  day  everything  in  me  seemed  to 
stop.  I  couldn't  feel,  or  think,  or  talk.  Mr.  Burn- 
ham  must  have  been  frightened,  for  he  got  up  sud 
denly  and  left  the  room.  After  a  while  he  came  back, 
then  left  again,  and  a  few  minutes  later  the  door 
opened  and  closed,  and  Mary  Gary  was  inside.  As 
she  came  toward  me  I  saw  she  had  on  no  coat  or  hat. 
And  then  she  was  on  her  knees  by  my  bed,  and  I  was 
in  her  arms  and  held  close  to  her  heart. 

"Oh,  I  can't  tell — "  Her  voice  broke  in  a  half-sob 
she  tried  to  smother.  "No  one  can  ever  know  what 
it  meant  to  me,  but  I  knew  she  understood,  and  sud 
denly  the  something  that  had  been  tight  and  cruel 
snapped,  and  for  the  first  time  tears  came." 

"I  understand,  child.  I  understand."  Miss  Gib- 
bie  patted  the  twisting  hands  softly.  "  Every  woman 
has  a  corner  in  her  heart  she  keeps  covered.  And  the 
thing  in  life  that's  hardest  is  to  hold  your  head  up 
and  smile  and  hide  the  ache.  But  it  must  be  held 
up.  That's  the  woman's  part.  I'm  glad  you  and 
Mary  are  good  friends.  She  tells  me  you  and  Mr. 
Burnham  have  been  a  great  help  to  her,  and  she 
needs  the  help  you  and  he  can  give.  I'm  about  as 
much  use  as  a  shoestring  for  a  buttoned  boot.  Never 
could  stand  smeary  people  with  bad  teeth.  But  pos 
sibly  I  wouldn't  take  a  bath  every  day,  either,  if  I 
didn't  have  a  clean  tub  and  hot  water,  with  good  soap 
and  towels.  Mary  says  I  wouldn't.  And  if  I  had  to 

202 


cook,  and  mind  babies,  and  make  clothes,  and  live 
with  a  tobacco-chewer  and  pipe-smoker,  and  get  up 
before  light  and  hurry  him  off  to  a  factory,  and  wash 
and  dress  the  children  for  school,  and  then  clean  and 
cook  some  more,  maybe  I  wouldn't  be  —  quite  like 
I  am  now.  Maybe  I  wouldn't — " 

"I  am  very  sure  of  it."  Mrs.  Burnham's  laugh 
was  half  a  sigh.  "  Poor  people  make  us  dreadfully 
mad  at  times,  and  we  call  them  shiftless  and  im 
provident  and  lazy,  and  some  of  them  are.  They  are 
ignorant  and  untrained.  But  the  woman  who  is  do 
ing  the  hardest,  bravest  work  in  the  world  to-day  is 
the  wife  of  the  workingman,  struggling  to  be  respect 
able  and  make  her  children  so  on  wages  that  often 
aren't  human,  much  less  Christian.  When  I  build  a 
monument  it's  to  be  to  'Unknown  Mothers."1 

She  got  up  and  pushed  back  her  chair.  "When  are 
you  going  away,  Miss  Gibbie  ?  I'm  so  glad  you  are 
making  Mary  go  with  you."  She  hesitated  and  with 
the  tip  of  her  parasol  outlined  the  pattern  of  the  rug 
at  her  feet. 

"Miss  Puss  Jenkins  came  to  see  me  night  before 
last  and  she  said  such  queer  things  she'd  heard." 
Again  she  hesitated,  and  in  her  face  the  color  rose  to 
the  roots  of  her  hair.  "  I  don't  suppose  I  ought  to 
speak  of  it,  but  when  any  one  says  anything  about 
Mary  I  get  so  hot  I'm  not — " 

"What  did  Puss  say  ?"  Miss  Gibbie  sat  upright 
and  the  fan  in  her  hand  was  still. 

203 


MISS   GIBBIE  GAULT 

"She  didn't  say  anything  herself,  but  it  was  what 
Mrs.  Deford  said  that— 

"What  did  Mrs.  Deford  say?" 

"Miss  Puss  said  she  practically  admitted  her 
daughter  Lily  was  engaged  to  Mr.  Maxwell,  though 
you'd  tried  your  best  to  get  him  for  Mary."  She 
stopped.  "I  didn't  mean  to  tell  that.  It's  too  silly 
to  be  repeated." 

Miss  Gibbie  lay  back  in  her  chair  and  covered  her 
face  with  the  turkey-wing  fan,  and  from  behind  it 
came  laughter  such  as  Mrs.  Burnham  had  never 
heard  from  her  before.  "John  engaged  to  Lily 
Deford!  To  Lily  Deford!  My  dear,  he'd  much 
rather  be  engaged  to  me.  Lily's  mother  goes  with 
Lily."  She  put  down  the  fan  and  wiped  her  eyes. 
"Poor  Snobby!  I've  tried  to  get  John  for  Mary, 
have  I  ?  And  she  has  tried  to  get  him  for  herself,  has 
she  ?  Though  this  you  don't  tell  me.  I'm  afraid  as 
a  purveyor  of  gossip  you  will  never  be  a  success. 
Puss  is  a  past-master.  On  your  way  home  just  stop 
at  her  house,  will  you,  and  tell  her  I  want  to  see  her 


at  once." 


XVII 


IN   WHICH   MARY   GARY   IS    PUZZLED 


HE  was  glad  to  be  alone.  The  day  had 
been  happy,  but  happiness  can  only  hold 
weariness  in  abeyance,  not  prevent  it,  and 
she  was  very  tired.  Miss  Gibbie  had  pro 
tested  against  the  giving  of  this  party  two 
days  before  they  were  to  start  for  their 
summer  holiday.  But  to  go  away  without  letting  the 
children  have  the  long,  joyful  day  in  the  open  would 
have  worried  her,  and  she  had  insisted  on  their 
coming. 

Their  joy  had  given  her  pleasure,  and  she  was  glad 
to  have  them,  but  of  late  she  had  been  conscious  of  a 
restlessness  too  vague  to  be  analyzed,  too  uncertain 
to  be  defined.  And  yet  this  restlessness  was  definite 
enough  to  depress,  and  it  was  with  relief  she  had 
stood  at  the  gate  and  waved  good-bye  to  the  last  little 
hand  waving  in  turn  to  her.  Then  she  had  gone  back 
to  the  house  and  to  the  companionship  of  her  under 
standing  friends,  the  stars. 

Watching  them,  she  nodded.  "What  does  any 
thing  matter,  Mary  Gary,  if  you  just  can  look  the 

205 


MISS   GIBBIE  GAULT 

stars  in  the  face  and  tell  them  youVe  tried?  They 
are  going  to  keep  on  shining  a  good  many  million 
years  after  your  little  day  is  done,  and  the  thing 
you  are  to  remember  is  that  they're  under  the 
clouds  when  you  can't  see  them,  and  you  also  are 
to  remember — " 

The  sound  of  footsteps  behind  made  her  turn  from 
the  railing  of  the  porch  against  which  she  had  been 
leaning  and  look  toward  the  doorway.  Hedwig  was 
coming  through  it. 

"Mr.  Ash,  he  at  the  telephone  is,  and  he 
would  like  much  to  know  if  you  will  him  see  this 
evening," 

"Indeed  I  won't!"  She  looked  perplexedly  at  the 
woman  before  her.  "I'm  so  tired,  Hedwig.  Tell 
him  I'm  sleepy  and  can't  see  anybody.  I  mean,  tell 
him  I  am  very  busy  and  have  a  good  deal  to  do. 
Tell  him  anything  you  want,  only  don't  let  him  come. 
I'm  going  to  sit  here  for  a  while.  Lock  up  the  house 
and  close  the  windows.  If  any  one  else  telephones 
say  I'm  asleep,  or  dead,  or  anything.  I'm  so  cross, 
Hedwig!  Don't  mind  me,  but  I  want  to  be  alone." 

Hedwig  hesitated,  drew  the  long,  low  chaii%  closer 
to  the  railing  and  smoothed  the  cushions  on  it,  then 
turned  and  left  the  porch.  After  a  moment  she 
came  back  and,  seeing  the  girl  still  leaning  against 
the  railing,  stood  by  her  side  and  looked  at  her  in 
silence. 

"Is  there  anything  you  wish,  Hedwig ?" 
206 


IN   WHICH   MARY   GARY    IS   PUZZLED 

"No,  mein  Fraulein.  Only" — the  fingers  of  the 
strong  white  hands  were  interlaced — "only  you  a 
busy  day  have  had,  and  busy  weeks  you  have  had 
also.  And  you  have  forgot  that  you  of  flesh  and 
blood  are  too  made.  You  think  you  of  spirit  are 
and  do  not  wear  out.  But  everything,  it  wears  out, 
mein  Fraulein,  and  you  are  tired  more  than  you  know. 
You  have  nothing  eat  all  day." 

"Oh  yes,  I  have.  I  ate  my  lunch  with  the  chil 
dren.  Didn't  they  have  a  beautiful  time  ?  How 
many  were  here,  do  you  think  ?" 

"Will  you  not  in  the  chair  sit?"  Hedwig  pushed 
the  chair  a  little  closer.  "There  were  of  the  little 
orphans  sixty-one,  and  of  their  minders,  five.  Can  I 
not  your  feet  rub  a  little  bit,  mein  Fraulein  ?  You 
on  them  have  been  all  the  long  day." 

"You  certainly  may,  and  you're  a  dear  to  think  of 
it.  My  feet  get  so  tired,  and  you  know  how  to  rest 
them  so  nicely.  Thank  you,  Hedwig." 

With  an  indrawing  breath  of  which  she  was  not 
conscious,  Mary  Gary  leaned  back  in  the  chair  and 
her  hands  dropped  in  her  lap.  On  her  knees  Hedwig 
knelt  and  drew  off  the  slippers,  and  with  soft,  firm 
movements,  learned  in  her  hospital  days,  began  to 
rub  first  one  foot  and  then  the  other. 

"Your  feet,  they  tired  get,  mein  Fraulein,  because 
they  are  not  for  the  body  big  enough.  Look!  I  can 
cover  it  with  my  hand!  Your  body  is  not  large,  but 
your  feet" — she  laughed  as  if  the  thought  were 

207 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

funny — "your  feet  is  like  your  heart.     They  are  a 
child's!" 

Mary  Gary  shook  her  head.  "No,  nothing  about 
me  is  like  a  child  any  more,  Hedwig.  Sometimes  I 
wonder  if  I  ever  was  one,  like  other  children,  I  mean 
When  I  lived  here  in  the  asylum  I  thought  I  was  a 
child,  but  I  was  only  half  one  then.  I  played  with 
the  children,  ate  with  them,  studied  and  worked  with 
them,  but  it  was  only  part  of  me  that  did  it,  the  out 
side  part.  The  inside  lived  in  another  world,  a 
world  I  used  to  make  up  and  put  people  and  things 
in  which  were  very  different  from  what  I  saw  about 
me.  And  then  as  I  grew  older  I  saw  so  much  that 
seemed  hard  and  unjust  and  unfair,  saw  so  much 
that  was  beautiful  and  nice  to  have  and  yet  did  not 
make  people  happy  that  I  began  to  wonder  and 
think  again,  just  as  I  did  when  I  was  little,  only  in  a 
different  way.  And  now  sometimes  I  wonder  if  I 
ever  was  really  a  child  or  just  somebody  always 
puzzling  over  something,  always  wanting  to  help 
and  not  knowing  how — just  making  mistakes." 

Hedwig  looked  up.  In  her  Fraulein's  voice  was 
a  tone  she  did  not  know,  and  on  the  lashe^of  her 
closed  eyes  she  thought  she  saw  tears.  It  was  some 
thing  very  new  and  strange,  and  sudden  fear  filled 
her.  She  could  as  soon  think  of  the  sun  shedding 
darkness  as  the  spirit  before  her  failing,  and  this  ap 
parent  surrender  to  something  that  hurt  and  de 
pressed  she  could  not  understand. 

208 


"He  who  does  not  make  mistakes  does  not  do 
anything.  He  is  an  onlooker  and  a  sneerer.  Mein 
Fraulein  does  much,  and  the  mistakes  not  yet  are 
many.  The  good  God  is  helping  her,  and  He  in  her 
heart  puts  wonder  as  to  why  things  be  as  they  be, 
and  love  that  she  may  try  them  to  better  make.  But 
He  will  not  like  it  if  she  forget  herself  too  much 
altogether,  and  remember  but  the  others.  Mein 
Fraulein  is  very  tired  to-night." 

"  But  I've  no  business  being  tired,  Hedwig."  Her 
hands  went  up  to  her  hair  and  she  fastened  the  stray 
strands  more  securely.  "It's  been  so  lovely  to  have 
Uncle  Parke  and  Aunt  Katherine  and  the  children; 
and  everything  is  going  all  right,  and  my  little  orphans 
have  had  a  happy  day,  and  I'm  going  away  on  a 
beautiful  trip  and —  It's  just  foolishness  being 
tired."  She  threw  back  her  head.  "I'm  not  tired! 
Just  cross  as  two  sticks,  and  what  about  I  couldn't 
even  guess.  Weren't  the  children  funny  and  didn't 
they  look  nice  ?  You're  sure  everybody  had  plenty 
to  eat,  aren't  you,  Hedwig  ?" 

"If  they  did  not  a  plenty  have,  mein  Fraulein,  it 
was  because  their  little  stomachs  were  not  big  enough 
for  more.  They  swallowed  all  they  could  hold,  but 
taste  is  good  to  the  tongue  even  though  there  is  no 
more  room.  They  one  good  day  have  had,  and  they 
will  sleep  happy  and  tired  to-night.  They  love  you, 
mein  Fraulein.  They  love  you  because  you  have 
not  them  forgot,  and  because  you  do  not  forget  when 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

you,  too,  were  little  and  unloved  and  nobody  cared. 
Love  it  a  great  thing  is.'* 

Mary  Gary  sat  upright  and  her  clear  laughter  broke 
the  stillness  of  the  soft  night  air.  "  Did  you  talk  to 
that  little  Minna  Haskins,  Hedwig,  or  hear  her  talk  ? 
Her  imagination  is  worse  than  mine  ever  was,  but 
memory  is  her  specialty.  There's  nothing  she  doesn't 
remember.  She's  only  eight,  but  she  goes  back  to 
the  prehistoric  without  a  blink.  She  certainly  had 
a  good  time  to-day." 

"She  have.  A  most  very  good  time.  I  saw  her 
and  I  heard  her,  and  she  say  the  queer  things  for  a 
child.  I  was  giving  some  of  the  children  sandwiches 
and  lemonade  before  lunch,  and  I  heard  three  or  four 
talking  so  loud  and  arguing  like  that  I  went  to  see 
what  the  matter  it  was,  and  guess,  mein  Fraulein, 
what  that  little  Minna  Haskins  she  did  say  ?" 

"  I  can't  guess.  Nobody  could  guess  what  Minna 
would  say." 

"The  children,  they  were  disputing  as  to  what  they 
remembered  before  they  little  orphans  were,  and  one, 
she  said  she  knew  when  she  but  four  years  old  was 
and  lived  in  the  country  with  chickens  and  e<jgs  and 
apple-trees  like  you  here  have.  And  another  little 
girl  said  she  could  recollect  when  her  father  died  and 
they  had  crepe  on  the  door,  and  she  was  not  but 
three,  and  then  that  little  Minna  Haskins  her  head 
did  toss,  and  she  said  that  was  nothing,  that  she  re 
membered  perfectly  the  day  she  was  born.  That 

210 


IN   WHICH   MARY   GARY   IS   PUZZLED 

there  wasn't  a  soul  in  the  house  but  her  grandmother, 
as  her  mother  she  had  gone  out  to  buy  a  new  hat. 
And  when  she  came  back  and  saw  her  there  with  her 
hair  all  curled — her  grandmother  had  curled  it — she 
was  so  surprised  she  died  from  joy,  and  that's  why 
she's  an  orphan." 

Again  Mary  Gary's  laughter  broke  the  stillness. 
"What  a  dreadful  thing  to  remember!  Poor  little 
thing!  A  too-active  brain  isn't  much  of  a  blessing  with 
nothing  to  direct  or  control  it.  That  will  do,  Hed- 
wig.  Thank  you  so  much.  My  feet  feel  ever  so  much 
better;  it  was  just  the  standing  that  tired  them. 
But  you  are  dead  tired  yourself,  and  there'll  be  so 
much  to  do  to-morrow  that  you  ought  to  be  in  bed 
this  minute.  I'm  so  glad  Miss  Gibbie  wants  you  to 
go,  too.  You'll  be  such  a  help  to  everybody  and  the 
change  will  do  you  good." 

"I  would  content  be  to  stay  or  go,  whichever  it 
were  the  best.  But  I  am  glad  to  be  with  you."  In 
the  doorway  she  stood  a  moment,  smoothing  the 
folds  of  her  apron,  but  this  time  she  did  not  look 
around. 

"  Did  you  get  the  letter  on  the  desk,  mein  Fraulein  ? 
I  thought  maybe  you  did  not  know  it  there  was." 

"Yes,  thank  you.  I  saw  it.  Good -night,  Hed- 
wig.  And,  Hedwig,  wake  me  to-morrow  at  seven, 
will  you  ?  I  have  so  much  I  want  to  do." 

As  Hedwig  went  inside  the  hall  the  clock  near  the 
door  struck  nine,  and,  at  sound  of  the  clear  strokes, 

211 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

Mary  Gary  stirred  and  changed  her  position.  The 
night  was  very  still.  Through  the  vines  which 
draped  the  porch  the  moon  shone  calm  and  cool  and 
serene  in  a  sky  as  cloudless  as  a  lake  of  silver,  and  out 
of  the  multitude  of  stars  here  and  there  some  glowed 
so  clearly  that  their  points  gleamed  sharp  and  bright. 

The  restful  stillness  after  the  noisy  day  was  good, 
and  her  eyes  closed.  For  some  time  she  lay  back  in 
her  chair,  and  presently  the  old  habit  of  her  childhood 
asserted  itself  and,  opening  her  eyes,  she  nodded  as  if 
to  some  one  and  began  to  talk  softly. 

"Eight  months  and  two  weeks  you've  been  back 
here,  Mary  Gary,  and  everybody  certainly  has  been 
good  to  you — that  is,  almost  everybody — and  you  are 
just  as  happy  as  a  person  has  a  right  to  be.  You 
always  have  known,  or  Martha  has,  that  nobody  can 
have  everything  just  as  they  want  it,  and  people  will 
be  pecky  sometimes,  and  there  will  come  down  days 
as  well  as  up  ones.  But  you  have  so  much  to  be 
thankful  for  that  you'd  be  a  selfish,  silly  creature,  a 
weak  and  wicked  creature,  if  you  let  anything,  any 
thing^  make  you  the  least  bit  tired  or — lonely,  or 
make  you  wish  for — for  what  you've  got  no  business 
wishing  for.  Martha  certainly  is  ashamed  of  you, 
Mary.  You  always  did  have  a  horrid  habit  of  asking 
what's  the  use  of  doing  this  or  doing  that,  and  it's  pure 
selfishness  and  laziness  that  asks  questions  of  that 
sort.  You  might  have  married  money  and  lived  in 
a  big  city  and  given  parties  to  people  who  didn't  want 

212 


IN   WHICH   MARY   GARY   IS    PUZZLED 

to  come,  but  had  to  just  to  let  the  others  know  they 
were  invited;  and  you  might  have  had  automobiles 
and  Paris  clothes,  but  you  watched  that  and  didn't 
like  it."  In  the  darkness  she  shook  her  head.  "  You 
certainly  didn't.  You  tried  it  when  visiting  your  rich 
friends,  and  then  your  inquiring  nature  did  have  some 
sense,  because  it  kept  on  asking  inside  what  it  was  all 
for.  Nobody  seemed  to  want  to  go  where  they  went, 
or  to  enjoy  what  they  did,  and  yet  they  were  bored  to 
death  at  home.  The  men  talked  money  and  the 
women  talked  clothes,  and  everybody  seemed  to  be 
trying  to  make  a  noise  so  as  not  to  hear  something 
they're  bound  to  hear,  and  to  turn  their  backs  on 
something  that's  got  to  be  faced;  and  you  kept  look 
ing  for  the  pudding  and  could  only  find  the  meringue, 
and  you  don't  like  meringue  much  even  if  it  is  pretty 
to  see.  And  then  you  had  the  chance  to  come  here. 
That  is,  you  made  up  your  mind  you  might  help  a 
little  here,  not  being  needed  specially  anywhere  else; 
and  then  this  wonderful  offer  came.  Not  one  person 
in  forty  thousand  ever  was  situated  just  as  you've 
been,  or  had  what  you  have  to  do  with.  I  wonder 
why  more  rich  people  wouldn't  rather  give  their 
money  away  while  living  and  get  pleasure  out  of  it, 
than  keep  it  until  they're  dead  for  somebody  else  to 
fuss  over.  I  guess  they  hate  to  give  it  up  until  the 
last  minute.  It  hurts  some  people  to  part  with  what 
they  don't  want,  much  less  with  what  they  don't  want 
any  one  else  to  have.  And  I've  been  so  glad  to  be 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

here.  People  think  it's  funny  my  living  alone,  and 
Miss  Gibbie  living  in  her  big  house  alone.  But  if 
we  want  our  dining-room  chairs  on  top  the  table  in 
stead  of  around  it,  we  like  to  feel  we  can  have  them 
that  way,  and  nobody  to  say  we  can't.  As  Mrs. 
McDougal  says,  *  we're  individuals,'  and  'it  isn't 
every  kind  what  can  congeal  in  running  a  house.' 
Mrs.  McDougal  says  a  lot  of  true  things.  But 
John  " — she  put  her  hand  down  and  drew  from  under 
her  belt  a  letter — "  John  never  said  in  his  life  a  truer 
one  than  that  I  was  so  alone  here.  I've  been  so  busy 
and  happy  I  didn't  know  I  was  alone,  but  since  the 
big  Aldens  and  the  little  Aldens  went  home  I've  felt 
sometimes  I  was  just  a  bit  of  a  boat  in  a  great  big  sea, 
and  I  wasn't  sure  where  I  was  going,  though  pulling 
as  hard  as  I  could  pull." 

She  leaned  forward  in  her  chair  and,  with  elbows 
on  knees  and  chin  in  her  hands,  looked  down  upon 
the  floor  of  the  porch  and  tapped  it  with  her  foot. 

"But  everybody  is  queer  at  rimes.  Men  are  just 
as  queer  as  women,  and  John  isn't  a  bit  different  from 
the  rest.  I  wonder  if  there  is  anybody  in  the  world, 
anybody,  who  doesn't  disappoint  you  if  you  know 
them  long  enough!  There's  John."  She  Reid  the 
letter  between  the  palms  of  her  hands  and  tapped  her 
lips  with  it.  "This  is  the  first  letter  I've  had  from 
him  in  three  weeks.  Says  he  is  so  busy  he  has  no 
chance  to  write.  Busy!  For  nearly  ten  years  he's 
never  been  too  busy.  Nobody  is  too  busy  to  do  what 

214 


IN  WHICH  MARY  GARY  IS  PUZZLED 

they  want  to  do.  If  you  can't  take  time  you  can 
always  make  it  And  John  is  just  proving  he's  only 
a  man.  Somehow  I  thought  he  wasn't  Eke  the  rest- 
But  he  is,  AH  of  them  are  alike,  every  single  one. 
And  you  can  just  write  to  him  to-night,  Mary  Cary, 
and  tell  him  if  he's  so  busy  you're  sorry  he  bothered 
to  write  at  alt" 

She  sat  up  and  took  the  sheet  of  paper  out  of  its 
envelope,  "Three  pages!  Used  to  write  a  book,  I 
think  John  must  be  crazy.  He'd  better  send  nothing 
than  a  measly  litde  thing  with  nothing  in  it,  like  that! 
And  going  to  Norway  in  August!  Mentions  it  as  if 
it  were  around  the  corner."  Her  face  douded  and 
her  brow  ridged  perplexedly.  "I  don't  understand 
John,  He  didn't  ask  me  a  thing  about  it — what  I 
thought  of  it,  or  say  how  long  he'd  be  away,  or  any 
thing.  And  Norway  is  such  a  long  way  off." 

15 


XVIII 


PICTURES    IN   THE    FIRE 

EGGY  looked  up  into  the  face  laughing 
down  into  hers,  and  the  big  brown  eyes 
blinked. 

"You've  got  red  apples  in  your  cheeks 
this  mornin',  Miss  Mary,  and  your  eyes 
is  just  as  shinin*  as  them  ocean  waves  we 
saw  last  summer,  when  the  sun  made  'em  sparkle  in 
silver  splashes.  Just  as  blue,  too.  I  ain't  ever  seen 
such  blue  eyes  and  long  lashes  as  you've  got,  but  you 
don't  often  have  real  red  apples  in  your  cheeks." 

"It's  the  weather.  Who  could  help  having  red 
apples  in  stinging  air  like  this  ?  And  who  isn't  glad 
to  be  living  when  every  single  tree  is  dressed  in  green 
and  gold,  or  brown  and  tan,  or  yellow  and  red,  and 
the  sun  is  just  laughing  at  you,  and  dancing  for  joy  ? 
It's  such  a  nice  world,  Peggy,  this  world  is,  iT  we'll 
just  keep  our  eyes  open  to  the  pretty  things  in  it,  and 
our  hearts  to  its  good  things.  Of  course  we  have 
to  see  the  ugly  ones;  if  we  didn't  we  might  bump  into 
them,  and  get  hurt  or  soiled  or  something.  But  see 
ing  and  keeping  on  looking  are  very  different  things. 

216 


PICTURES   IN   THE   FIRE 

Wait  a  minute,  Peggy!  Let's  stop  and  take  a  good 
breath  now  we're  at  the  top  of  the  hill.  Isn't  it  lovely 
up  here,  and  isn't  the  air  delicious  ?  It's  good  to  be 
living  to-day!" 

Peggy  put  her  hands  on  her  hips  in  imitation  of 
the  girl  by  her  side,  and  tried  to  draw  in  a  deep  breath 
as  slowly  as  she  did,  but  her  first  effort  was  not  suc 
cessful,  and  the  exhalation  was  abrupt.  Mary  Gary 
laughed. 

"You'll  have  to  practise,  Peggy.  It  isn't  easy  at 
first,  but  our  lungs  deserve  a  bath  as  surely  as  our 
bodies,  and  this  is  such  grand  air  in  which  to  give  it 
to  them.  Did  you  get  any  chincapins  yesterday  ?" 

""Wash  and  Jeff's  hats  full.  We  strung  five  strings 
last  night  and  ate  the  rest.  I  took  Araminta  Winters 
one  string.  I  don't  like  Araminta.  She's  a  whiney 
little  pussy  cat,  and  sly  as  a  fox,  but  she's  sick  and 
can't  go  after  nuts  or  anything,  and  I  thought  you'd 
like  her  to  have  one.  I  didn't  want  her  to  have  it. 
She  told  a  story  on  me  once  and  I  ain't  ever  forgot  it. 
I  reckon  'twould  be  a  good  thing  if  she  was  to  die." 

"Good  gracious,  Peggy!  You  sound  like  a  vivi- 
sectionist.  Araminta's  mother  wouldn't  agree  with 
you.  She  loves  Araminta,  if  you  don't." 

"No'm,  she  don't  —  that  is,  she  ain't  any  way 
crazy  'bout  her.  Mothers  feel  bound  to  love  what 
they've  borned,  I  reckon,  but  Araminta  ain't  any 
thing  to  be  dyin'  anxious  to  have  around.  She's  ugly 
as  sin  and  got  sore  eyes,  and  when  you  see  her  comin' 

217 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

you  run  if  you  see  her  before  she  sees  you.  There's 
a  lot  of  folks  like  that,  ain't  there,  Miss  Mary  ? 
Muther  say  there  is." 

"Oh,  I  don't  know.  If  you  didn't  see  the  funny 
side  you  might  run,  but  I  nearly  always  see  the 
funny  side,  and  all  kinds  of  people  interest  me." 

Peggy  shook  her  head.  "All  folks  ain't  got  a 
funny  side  to  see.  They're  just  naturally  nasty. 
Always  seein'  what's  wrong  and  talkin'  about  it. 
Muther  say  some  folks  is  born  to  poke  for  rubbish, 
and  if  they  can't  find  a  thing  mean  to  say  they'll  say 
it  anyhow.  Crittersi/ers,  I  believe  she  calls  'em. 
Some  who  ain't  good  at  anything  else  is  great  at  that, 
she  says." 

"Very  true,  my  solemn  Peggy,  but  you  shouldn't 
know  it."  Mary  Gary  laughed.  "And  if  we  don't 
like  '  crittersizers,'  then  don't  let's  criticise.  It  was  my 
besetting  sin,  Peggy,  and  it  took  me  a  long  time  to 
learn  we  all  have  rubbish  in  us,  and  it  wasn't  a  bit 
hard  to  see  the  ugly  things  in  people.  And  unless  we 
can  rake  the  rubbish  out  and  get  rid  of  it,  it  doesn't  do 
much  good  to  talk  about  it.  People  used  to  make 
me  so  mad!" 

"  Just  like  they  make  me  now  ?" 

"  Do  they  ?"  Mary  Gary  looked  down  in  the  sober 
little  face.  "Then  cut  it  out,  Peggy.  If  you  don't 
like  some  people  or  the  things  they  do  and  can't 
change  them,  then,  keep  out  of  their  way.  Don't 
be  nice  to  their  faces  and  ugly  behind  their  backs. 

218 


That's  the  most  rubbishy  thing  in  the  world.  There's 
plenty  of  room  to  stay  apart." 

"That's  what  you  do,  ain't  it?" 

"  I  ?"  The  surprise  in  her  voice  was  genuine. 
"Why,  no.  I  don't  stay  away  from  people." 

"You  didn't  go  to  Mrs.  Deford's  party  Wednes 
day." 

Mary  Gary  turned  to  the  child  beside  her.  "Who 
told  you  I  didn't  go  to  Mrs.  Deford's  party  Wednes 
day  ?" 

"Susie  heard  Miss  Lizzie  Bettie  Pryor  and  Miss 
Puss  Jenkins  talkin'  about  it  in  the  store  yesterday. 
Susie  says  they  think  she's  just  air,  and  the  way  they 
lay  out  people  when  they're  lookin'  at  hats  frightens 
her.  They  said  they  didn't  blame  you,  for  Mrs. 
Deford  had  never  let  up  on  you  since  you  been 
back.  They  said  she's  so  crazy  for  Miss  Lily  to 
marry  Mr.  John  Maxwell  that  she's  got  him  skeered 
to  death,  an,d  they  believed  that's  the  reason  he  went 
to  Europe  this  summer,  and  they  reckon  he's  hidin' 
yet,  as  he  ain't  been  down  here  lately,  not  since  last 
May,  and  this  is  the  last  of  October." 

"He's  coming — "  Mary  Gary  stopped  abruptly, 
then  she  laughed.  "It's  too  splendid  to  talk  about 
ugly  things  to-day,  Peggy.  Let's  run  to  the  bottom 
of  the  hill  and  to  the  big  sycamore-tree  and  then  we'll 
turn  in  the  Calverton  road  and  go  home.  You  are 
going  to  stay  with  me  to  dinner,  and  to-night  Miss 
Gibbie  is  coming  to  tea,  and  to-morrow — "  She 

219 


reached  up  and  pulled  a  branch  of  scarlet  leaves 
from  a  maple-tree  and  shook  them  gayly  in  the  air. 
"Oh,  to-morrow  there's  lots  of  things  to  be  done. 
Here,  give  me  your  hand.  When  I  say  three,  we'll 
start." 

Laughing,  panting,  glowing,  they  reached  the  foot 
of  the  hill  and  then  the  sycamore-tree,  and  this  time 
Peggy's  face  was  as  full  of  color  as  Mary  Gary's. 
For  a  moment  they  stood  in  the  radiant  sunshine  and 
let  the  air,  crisp  and  fresh  with  the  sting  of  autumn, 
blow  on  them;  then,  still  hand  in  hand,  went  singing 
down  the  road  and  on  to  Tree  Hill. 

Some  hours  later  Peggy  was  gone,  and  before  the 
crackling  logs  on  the  andirons  in  the  library  Mary 
Gary,  on  her  knees,  held  out  her  hands  to  their  blaze 
and  nodded  to  the  dancing  flames. 

"It's  so  nice  to  have  you,  Fire.  I  love  you!  Yov 
are  so  warm  and  cheerful  and  such  good  company. 
And  you're  such  a  good  thing  to  dream  in  and  see 
pictures  in  and  tell  fairy  tales  to.  You  tell  fairy  tales 
yourself.  You  can  be  very  nice,  Fire — but  oh,  your 
ashes!" 

With  the  tongs  she  turned  over  a  log,  and  ou^of  the 
willow  basket  on  the  hearth  took  another  and  laid  it 
carefully  on  the  top.  As  it  sputtered  and  crackled 
she  sat  down  on  the  rug  and  clasped  her  hands  over 
her  knees,  looking  with  half-shut  eyes  in  the  dancing 
flames,  unmindful  of  thek  heat  or  the  burning  of  her 
face. 

130 


PICTURES   IN   THE   FIRE 

Presently  she  turned  and  looked  around  the  room. 
Twilight  had  fallen,  and  only  the  glint  of  firelight 
touched  here  and  there  familiar  objects,  rested  a  mo 
ment  lovingly  on  bit  of  brass,  or  flirted  hastily  away 
from  picture  or  chair;  and  as  she  watched  its  gleams 
dart  in  and  out  she  smiled  softly  to  herself. 

"Kisses!"  she  said.  "You  dear  room!  I  love 
you,  too!"  Into  space  she  kissed  her  hand,  then 
laughed  at  her  childishness. 

"Isn't  it  nice  each  season  has  its  own  things  ?"  she 
said,  talking  to  the  flames.  "In  the  spring  the 
apple  blossoms  were  so  lovely  they  almost  hurt.  The 
trees,  the  birds,  the  flowers,  everything  was  so  beauti 
ful  that  I  behaved  as  if  I'd  never  seen  a  spring  before. 
That's  the  nice  part  of  spring.  It  brings  its  newness 
every  time,  and  I'm  just  as  surprised  as  if  it  were  the 
very,  very  first.  But  I  believe  I  love  the  fall  best. 
It  makes  you  tingle  so  to  do  things;  everything  is 
worth  while,  everything  is  worth  doing,  everybody  is 
worth  helping,  and  you  couldn't  help  enough  to  save 
your  life! 

"I'm  so  glad,  too,  the  house  is  all  fixed  for  the 
winter.  Doesn't  it  look  pretty  ?"  She  glanced  at  rugs 
and  curtains  and  chintz-covered  chairs;  at  the  bowls 
of  brilliantly  colored  leaves  on  the  top  of  book-shelves 
and  tables,  and  sniffed  the  pungent  winter  pinks,  step 
sisters  to  the  proud  chrysanthemums  in  the  hall,  and 
again  she  nodded  her  head. 

"What  a  happy  creature  you  ought  to  be,  Mary 
221 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

Gary!  You've  got  so  much;  the  chance  to  work,  a 
dear  home — " 

"Dreaming!  In  front  of  the  fire  and  dreaming 
again !  Not  the  politest  of  ways  to  meet  your  guests, 
and  the  front  door  open  as  usual.  Perhaps  you  don't 
know  it,  but  in  cold  weather  doors  should  be  shut!" 

"Heigho,  Miss  Gibbie!"  From  the  rug  Mary 
Gary  scrambled  to  her  feet  and  threw  her  arms 
around  her  visitor's  neck,  giving  her  a  sounding  kiss 
and  a  hearty  hug.  "I'm  so  glad  you've  come!  You 
rode,  of  course,  but  the  wind  has  bitten  your  cheeks, 
and  they've  got  apples  in  them  as  red  as  mine  were 
this  morning.  Hasn't  it  been  a  grand  day  ?  Peggy 
came  home  with  me  and  we  took  a  long  walk, 
and—" 

"If  you  will  stop  talking  and  ring  for  Hedwig  to 
take  my  things  I'll  think  more  of  your  manners. 
You're  getting  as  bad  as  Buzzie  Tate.  Some  of  these 
days  your  breath  will  be  lost.  What's  .that  I  smell 
in  here  ?  Winter  pinks  ?  Bless  my  soul  if  they're 
not  the  same  kind  I  used  to  pull  as  a  child  when  I 
spent  the  day  with  Grandmother  Bloodgood!"  She 
walked  over  to  the  desk  and  sniffed  the  flowers*  upon 
it.  "The  very  same.  Down  by  the  sun-dial  they 
used  to  be — " 

"That's  where  they  are  now.  I  love  them.  They 
are  so  plain  and  unpretentious.  Not  a  bit  like 
chrysanthemums." 

She  helped  Miss  Gibbie  off  with  her  coat,  untied 
222 


PICTURES    IN   THE    FIRE 

the  strings  to  her  bonnet,  and  took  her  gloves;  then 
she  examined  the  coat  critically. 

"You  need  a  new  one,  Miss  Gibbie.  This  one  is 
downright  shabby.  When  you  order  your  dresses  in 
January  you  certainly  must  get  a  new  coat." 

"I'll  do  nothing  of  the  kind.  I've  only  had  that 
coat  nine  years  and  it's  got  to  last  ten.  I  have  two 
others,  one  heavier  and  one  lighter  weight,  and  I  sel 
dom  wear  this.  Have  no  idea  of  getting  another." 

"But  velvet  rubs  so,  and  you  don't  want  people  to 
talk  as  if—" 

"Don't  I?"  Miss  Gibbie  sat  down  in  the  big 
chair  Mary  Gary  had  pushed  for  her  near  the  fire, 
and  spread  out  the  full  folds  of  her  black  silk  skirt 
with  deliberate  precision.  "How  do  you  know  what 
I  want  people  to  do  ?  My  dear  Miss  Gary,  only  dead 
people  don't  talk.  What  we  say  and  what  we  do, 
what  we  wear  and  where  we  go,  is  cause  for  comment 
in  exact  proportion  to  what  we  do  not  say  and  what 
we  do  not  do,  what  we  do  not  wear  and  where  we  do 
not  go,  with  those  people  who  do  us  the  honor  of 
spending  their  time  in  discussing  us.  Just  eighteen 
years  ago  this  November  my  brain  grasped  the  im 
portance  of  fully  realizing  this  and  the  advantage  of 
pleasing  one  person  in  this  world.  To  please  all  is 
impossible.  I  would  deny  no  one  the  pleasure  of 
talking  about  me." 

"  It  depends  on  what  they  say.  I  don't  like  people 
to  say  things  about  me  that  aren't  nice."  She  handed 

223 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

Hedwig  Miss  Gibbie's  wraps.  "I  mean  if  they 
aren't  true." 

"When  I  hear  things  said  about  me  that  are  not 
nice  and  are  not  true  I  take  a  lawyer  and  go  to  see 
the  person  who  has  said  them  and  call  for  proofs. 
When  not  forthcoming  I  take  away  with  me  a  piece 
of  paper  testifying  that  said  person  has  lied.  I  have 
two  or  three  little  affidavits  of  that  kind  in  my  desk. 
Things  said  about  me  that  are  not  nice  and  yet  are 
true  I  let  alone,  but  the  other  kind — "  She  waved 
her  hand.  "Were  there  fewer  cowards  in  the  world 
there  would  be  fewer  gossips.  But  what's  the  matter 
with  my  coat  ?  It  isn't  worn  out,  and  if  I  got  a  new 
one  it  would  be  of  the  same  material  and  the  same 
shape.  Not  going  to  get  a  new  one!" 

"Are  you  always  going  to  wear  the  same  shape 
clothes  ?"  Mary  Gary  put  a  log  of  wood  on  the  fire, 
then  sat  down  on  the  rug  at  Miss  Gibbie's  feet  and 
smiled  in  her  face.  "Aren't  you  ever  going  to 
change  ?" 

"Never!  Why  should  I  change  ?  Brain  cells 
weren't  meant  to  be  worn  out  trying  to  decide  be 
tween  pink  and  blue  or  princesse  and  polonaise.  We 
have  to  wear  clothes,  a  requirement  of  custom,  but 
more  time,  temper,  character,  and  peace  of  mind, 
not  to  mention  money,  have  been  sacrificed  to  them 
than  to  any  other  altar  on  this  green  earth,  and  for 
what  ?  Most  women  look  like  freaks.  Their  gar 
ments  are  travesties  on  grace  and  comfort,  and  when 

224 


PICTURES    IN   THE    FIRE 

not  a  pretence  in  quality  are  usually  a  bad  imitation 
of  a  senseless  style.  An  old  sheep  dressed  lamb- 
fashion,  especially  if  the  old  sheep  is  fat  and  over 
fifty,  is  hard  to  forgive.  When  I  was  fifty  I  came  to 
my  senses,  decided  on  a  certain  pattern  for  my 
clothes,  and  have  been  wearing  the  same  kind  ever 
since.  In  January  and  June  I  write  to  the  dress 
maker  for  what  I  want.  One  hour  twice  a  year  and 
the  work  is  done.  What's  the  matter  with  me? 
Don't  I  look  nice  ?" 

"Very  nice.  I  like  those  full  skirts  gathered  on  to 
a  fitted  waist,  with  your  throat  open  and  elbow 
sleeves.  But  you  can  wear  velvet  and  silk  and 
beautiful  lace,  and  fill  the  front  of  your  dress  with 
tulle.  Everybody  can't.  It  takes — " 

''Sense  and  system.  You  mean  money;  but  the 
sloppiest-dressed  woman  in  town  spends  more  than 
I  do  on  clothes,  very  probably.  Wastes  it  in  trash. 
I  get  a  velvet  dress  once  in  five  years.  Two  silks  a 
year,  a  few  muslins,  and  there  I  am.  Lace  lasts  for 
ever,  and  nothing  is  lost  on  trimmings.  Lack  of 
sense,  lack  of  sense — "  she  waved  her  beaded  bag  in 
the  air — "is  what's  the  matter  with  the  world. 
Women  are  slaves  of  custom;  their  most  despairing 
quality  is  their  cowardly  devotion  to  the  usual  and 
their  sheepy  following  of  silly  fashions.  Woman's 
vanity  and  man's  pampering  of  it  are  the  cause  of 
more  trouble  in  most  homes  than  fires  and  pestilence. 
Man  is  to  blame  for  it.  Through  the  ages  he's  been 

225 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

woman's  dictator,  and  being  too  sensible  to  wear 
petticoats  and  pink  ribbons  himself,  but  liking  to  see 
them  worn,  he  put  them  on  woman  and  told  her  she 
was  pretty  in  them.  That  was  enough.  To  please 
men  is  what  some  women  think  they  were  made  for, 
and  to  do  it  they're  content.  Women  are  such  fools ! 
What  were  you  dreaming  about  when  I  came  in  ? 
Seeing  pictures  in  the  fire,  of  course.  Whatwere  they  ?" 

"Guess!"  Mary  Gary  put  her  arms  on  Miss 
Gibbie's  knees  and  laughed  in  the  keen  gray  eyes. 
"But  you'd  never  guess!  I  was  thinking  how  dear 
everything  is  here  and  how  I  love  it.  There  isn't 
but  one  thing  more  I'd  like  in  the  house.  Just  one. 
And  I  was  wondering  if  you'd  mind  if  I  had  it. 
You  knew  poor  little  Mrs.  Trueheart  was  dead, 
didn't  you  ?" 

"Yes,  but  you  don't  want  her  ghost,  do  you?" 
Miss  Gibbie  nodded  toward  the  face  which  had  nodded 
toward  hers.  "  Do  you  want  a  spook  in  the  house  ?" 

"No — a  baby — she  left  one  five  weeks  old.  Can 
I  adopt  it,  Miss  Gibbie  ?  Would  you  mind  ?  Some 
times  I  get  so  lonely — I  mean,  I  just  love  a  little  baby, 
and  this  poor  little  thing  hasn't  any  mother?  and  its 
father  drinks,  and  the  oldest  girl  has  more  than  she 
can  do  for  the  other  children."  She  gave  a  deep, 
eager  breath.  "I'd  love  a  little  baby  so,  Miss 
Gibbie.  I'd  rather  hold  one  in  my  arms  and  rock 
it  to  sleep  than  dance  all  night,  and  I  like  to  dance. 
I  never  did  understand  how  mothers  could  let  nurses 

226 


put  their  babies  to  bed.  I  just  love  to  hold  them  and 
squeeze  them  tight!"  She  pressed  her  arms  close 
to  her  bosom  and,  bending,  kissed  the  hollow  which 
they  made;  then  looked  up  again.  "Would  you 
mind  if  I  took  this  little  Trueheart  baby  ?  Hedwig 
and  I  could  take  care  of  it  and — " 

Miss  Gibbie  leaned  back  in  her  chair;  her  eyes 
closed  in  hopeless  resignation,  and  her  hands  fell 
limp  in  her  lap. 

"Wants — to — adopt — a — baby!  Trueheart  baby 
— mother  dead  of  consumption  and  father  death- 
proof — an  alcohol  inoculate!  What  sense  the  Lord 
saw  fit  to  give  you,  Mary,  He  seems  at  times  to  take 
away.  I  thought  time  would  help  you,  but  you're 
still  a  child — still  a  child!" 

Mary  Gary  shook  her  head.  "I'm  not  a  child; 
I'm  a  woman.  But  why  can't  I  have  it  ?  The  cost 
wouldn't  be  much  and  I  can  afford  it,  and  I'd  just 
love  to  have  it."  She  held  out  her  arms.  "  See,"  she 
said,  "  they  were  meant  to  hold  a  baby,  and  they  ache 
for  one  sometimes.  This  is  such  a  delicate  little 
thing — it's  a  little  girl.  And  I — once  there  wasn't 
anybody  to  take  care  of  me,  and  I  had  to  be  an — I 
don't  understand  why  you'd  mind — " 

"You  don't,  and  I'm  not  going  to  try  to  make  you. 
Some  things  are  not  to  be  explained.  Did  you  say 
we  were  to  have  tea  ?  I  always  have  my  tea  at  four, 
and  it's  nearly  six.  Where's  Hedwig  ?  She  at  least 
can  understand  when  I  say  I  want  Tea!" 

227 


XIX 


THE   TESTIMONY   PARTY 

N  the  name  of  love  and  charity!"  Miss 
Gibbie  turned  to  the  door  behind  her. 
"What  is  it?  Can't  a  person  have  one 
hour  undisturbed  in  this  world  ?  I'm  not 
half  through  what  I  had  to  say,  though 
evidently  through  all  I'll  have  a  chance  to 
say.  What  on  earth!  Is  it  Christmas  or  the  Fourth 
of  July  or— " 

Mary  Cary  got  out  of  the  chair  in  which  she  had 
been  sitting  since  supper  and  went  over  to  the  window. 
"I  don't  know  what  it  is.  I  thought  this  was  the 
twenty-ninth  of  October,  but  from  the  noise  it  may 
be  election  night."  She  put  her  hands  to  her  eyes 
shielding  them  from  the  light,  and  looked  through  the 
pane  of  glass.  "There's  a  big  covered  wagcp  com 
ing  up  the  drive;  it's  at  the  steps."  She  threw  back 
her  head  and  laughed.  "Come  quick  and  look! 
they're  piling  out  like  rats  from  a  trap.  Did  you  ever! 
What  in  the  world  is  it  ?  They're  on  the  porch  now. 
Hedwig  has  opened  the  door  and — if  there  isn't  Mrs. 
McDougal  with  a  great  big  something  in  her  hands, 

228 


THE   TESTIMONY    PARTY 

and  Mr.  Milligan,  and  Peggy,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jer- 
nigan,  and  Jamie,  and  little  Minna  Haskins,  and  Mr. 
Flournoy.  What  do  you  suppose  it  is  ?" 

Miss  Gibbie  got  up  and  stood  by  the  table  in  the 
middle  of  the  room.  "The  gods  couldn't  guess  if 
Mrs.  McDougal  has  anything  to  do  with  it.  Are 
they  coming  in  ?" 

The  question  was  answered  by  the  tread  of  feet  in 
the  hall,  and  the  procession,  headed  by  Mrs.  Mc 
Dougal,  began  to  enter  the  library  door.  On  the 
threshold  she  stopped,  bowing  and  smiling,  in  her 
hands  a  large  glass  salver,  on  the  top  of  which  was 
an  even  larger  cake  elaborately  decorated  in  pink 
icing,  in  whose  centre  was  stuck  one  tall  white  can 
dle  which  sputtered  and  blinked  in  the  changing 
draughts  Behind  her  a  row  of  men  and  women, 
with  a  child  occasionally  between,  stretched  to  the 
hall  door  and  into  the  porch,  and  for  the  first  time  in 
her  life  Mary  Gary  could  find  nothing  to  say.  She 
knew  suddenly  what  it  meant. 

Mrs.  McDougal  advanced  and,  with  arms  ex 
tended,  made  a  profound  bow.  "Miss  Mary  Gary, 
Our  Friend!  And  Miss  Gibbie  Gault,  Her  Friend! 
Good-evening!" 

The  precious  burden  was  laid  on  the  table,  the 
candle  straightened,  and  also  her  hat:  then  she 

O  '  * 

turned  to  the  crowd  behind  with  a  hospitable  wave 
of  her  hand.  "Come  in,  people!  Come  in!  Those 
what  can't  sit,  must  stand.  Take  this  chair,  Mis' 

229 


MISS   GIBBIE  GAULT 

Jernigan;  she's  been  sick,  you  know" — with  a  nod  to 
Miss  Gibbie — "  and  if  you'll  be  excusin'  of  my  sayin' 
so  for  you,  Miss  Mary,  I'll  just  say,  make  yourselves 
to  home  the  best  you  can  while  we  say  what  we  come 
for.  Make  yourselves  to  home!" 

"Oh,  of  course!"  Mary  Gary  caught  her  breath. 
"  Please  pardon  me.  I  was  so  surprised  to  see  you — 
and  I'm  so  glad.  Do  sit  down,  Mrs.  Jernigan." 
She  pushed  the  latter  in  a  low  easy-chair.  "Bring 
some  more  chairs,  Hedwig.  Get  them  anywhere. 
I'm  so  glad  to  see  all  of  you.  How  do  you  do,  Mr. 
Milligan — and  Minna."  She  stooped  and  kissed  the 
child  holding  tight  a  folded  paper  in  her  hand.  "Did 
they  let  you  come,  too  ?  Isn't  it  nice  ?" 

"Ain't  ever  been  out  at  night  before  since  I  was 
an  orphan."  Minna  g£.ve  a  squeal  of  happy  joy. 
"But  I  used  to  go  to  parties  and  thayters  and  balls. 
I  remember  every  one  of  them."  She  turned  to  Mrs. 
McDougal  excitedly.  "Must  I  give  it  to  her  now?" 

"No,  you  mustn't!"  Mrs.  McDougal  grabbed 
the  hand  the  child  was  about  to  extend  and  held  it 
tight.  'Tain't  time  yet,  Minna;  'tain't  time  yet. 
Mr.  Milligan  is  master  of  ceremony  and  he'l^tell  you. 
You  keep  quiet  if  you  can.  Here,  Peggy,  hold  on  to 
Minna;  she'll  pop  if  you  don't.  How  you  do,  Miss 
Gibbie  ?  How  you  do  ?" 

Miss  Gibbie's  hand  was  shaken  heartily,  but  she 
was  not  permitted  to  say  how  she  did,  for  Mrs. 
McDougal  had  more  to  say  herself,  and  with  a  wink 

230 


she  went  on:  "We  knew  you  was  goin*  to  be  here. 
Peggy  told  us.  I  certainly  am  glad  of  it."  She  put 
her  hand  to  her  mouth  and  made  effort  to  whisper. 
"I  ain't  a  fool,  if  I  ain't  edjicated.  Brains  don't 
know  whether  they're  high  born  or  low,  or  whether 
they're  male  or  female,  and  they  can  take  in  more'n 
you  think  without  bein'  told.  I'm  not  forty,  and 
mine  ain't  set  yet.  But  set  yourself  down,  Miss 
Gibbie;  set  yourself  down,  while  I  go  see  if  they're 
all  in." 

They  were  all  in,  twenty  or  more  of  them,  and  as 
Mrs.  McDougal  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  room, 
counting  with  extended  forefinger,  Miss  Gibbie  took 
her  seat,  and  from  her  beaded  bag  took  out  surrep 
titiously  a  small  bottle  of  salts  and  hid  it  in  her  hand 
kerchief.  The  room  was  crowded  and  would  soon 
be  close,  but  an  open  window  could  not  be  asked  for. 
The  salts  must  do. 

For  most  of  the  unexpected  guests  chairs  had  been 
hastily  provided  by  Hedwig,  and  the  few  men  stand 
ing  were  doing  so  from  choice.  As  she  finished 
counting,  Mrs.  McDougal  stepped  back  and  stood 
by  Mary  Gary's  side. 

"We  are  all  here,"  she  said.  "Not  a  one  was 
spilt  out  the  wagon,  but  'twas  so  crowded  I  was  'fraid 
some  might  be  jolted  off  the  ends.  We  come  in 
Mr.  Chinn's  undertakin'  wagon."  She  nodded  ex 
planatorily  to  Miss  Gibbie.  "He  lent  it  to  us,  but 
not  bein'  built  for  picnics,  'twa'n't  the  best  in  the 
16  231 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

world  to  pack  twenty-three  shovin'  people  in,  bein' 
meant  for  just  one  still  one;  but  my  grandmother 
always  told  me  a  lot  of  life  was  a  makeshift,  and  if 
you  couldn't  do  what  you'd  like,  then  like  what  you 
had  to  do;  and  we  had  a  lot  of  fun  comin'  out.  Just 
like  Congressmen  goin'  to  a  funeral.  But  I  reckon 
you  wonder  what  we  come  for  ?"  This  time  she  turned 
to  Mary  Gary.  "We  come  to  tell  you  something. 
Mr.  Milligan,  he's  goin'  to  preside,  but  before  he 
begins  I  just  want  to  say  that  this  is  a  sort  o'  birthday 
for  Yorkburg,  and  that's  why  the  cake  is  here."  She 
turned  to  it  proudly,  and  her  right  hand  made  a  wide 
sweep.  "  We  all  help  give  it,  and  a  lot  more  would 
have  helped  if  they'd  known,  but  we  didn't  have  time 
to  tell  everybody,  and  if  feelin's  are  hurt  we  can't 
help  it.  Never  was  a  party  somebody's  feelin's  didn't 
get  hurt." 

She  stopped  and  made  a  bow.  "Miss  Mary  Gary 
and  Miss  Gibbie  Gault,  maybe  you  don't  know  it, 
but  this  is  the  twenty-ninth  day  of  October,  and  just 
one  year  ago  to-day  you  came  back  here  to  live  per 
manent,  which  is  why  there's  one  candle  on  the  cake. 
It's  been  a  good  year  for  Yorkburg  and  a  better  one 
for  some  of  the  people  in  it,  and  that  ain't  always  the 
case  when  returners  come  back,  for  most  folks  who 
live  in  a  place  ain't  much  use  to  it,  and  the  day  after 
the  funeral  is  forgot.  And  knowin'  there's  a  lot  of 
hard  licks  in  life,  and  no  matter  how  much  you  try  to 
do  for  people  they'll  do  you  if  they  get  a  chance,  and 

232 


THE    TESTIMONY    PARTY 

say  mean  things  about  you — for  there  ain't  nobody 
what  escapes  the  havin'  of  misjudgin'  things  said  if 
they've  got  a  mind  of  their  own  and  the  will  to  do 
their  way — we  thought  we  would  like  to  come  out  here 
and  tell  you  before  you  was  dead  that  we  sure  do 
love  you  and  we  thank  you  hearty  for  comin'  back. 
You've  done  a  lot  for  us,  Miss  Mary,  by  just  re- 
memberin*  we  was  livin'  and  comin'  to  see  us  like 
we  was  folks,  and  like  it  was  really  true  the  Lord  died 
for  us  as  well  as  others.  Some  don't  seem  to  think  so. 
You've  helped  us  take  hold  of  ourselves,  and  though 
some  of  us  ain't  much  to  take  hold  of,  still  a  lot  of 
people  die  slow  of  discouragement,  and  a  cheerin' 
word  beats  the  best  pill  on  earth.  I  ain't  much  on 
oratory,  and  not  well  acquainted  with  fine  speech, 
Plain  English  is  all  I  can  use,  and  the  plain  English 
of  all  of  us  is  we  love  you,  and  we  thank  you  and  we 
want  you  to  know  it.  My  grandmother  always  told 
me  if  you  had  anything  like  that  to  say,  to  say  it 
while  the  person  you  think  it  about  could  hear. 
Dead  people  can't.  And  'tain't  much  use  cryin'  and 
handin'  out  their  good  qualities  after  they're  gone, 
like  they  was  their  clothes,  for  which  they  ain't  got 
any  more  need,  because  'tis  too  late.  And  you  can't 
sleep  good  when  you  think  of  the  things  what's  too 
late. 

"But  I  ain't  here  to  make  a  speech,  just  to  bear 
testimony.  This  ain't  a  party  exactly,  unless  it's  a 
testimony  party,  and  if  I  don't  set  down  my  tongue 

233 


MISS   GIBBIE  GAULT 

will  run  all  night,  bein'  loose-jointed  and  good  for 
goin'  all  the  time  like  most  women's,  and  so  I  take 
my  seat  and  turn  the  meetin'  over  to  Mr.  Milligan. 
He's  Irish,  and  an  Irishman  can  talk  a  cabbage  into 
a  rose  any  day.  And  when  he's  got  a  rose  to  talk 
about" — her  hand  made  a  wide  sweep — "his  own 
tongue  couldn't  tell  what  it  might  say  after  it  starts. 
Mr.  Milligan  will  come  forward  and  begin  the 
presidinV 

To  loud  applause  Mrs.  McDougal  took  her  seat, 
and  Mr.  Milligan,  in  obedience  to  orders,  advanced 
and  bowed,  first  to  Mary  Gary,  then  to  Miss  Gibbie, 
and  then  to  the  room  at  large. 

"It's  the  truth  she's  said,  Miss  Mary,"  he  began, 
smilingly,  "for  she's  gone  and  expressed  what  I  was 
going  to  say,  and  my  tongue  must  tell  of  something 
else.  A  man  oughtn't  ever  to  let  a  woman  speak 
first.  She'll  steal  his  thunder  and  leave  nothing  for 
him  to  say.  He  can't  help  her  speaking  last.  No 
law  could  prevent  that,  but  first  and  last  ain't  fair. 
She  has  told  you  why  we're  here,  and  I  am  only  going 
to  add  that  anybody  who  takes  a  weed  out  of  a  place 
and  puts  in  a  flower  ain't  lived  in  vain,  and  anybody 
who  shows  you  where  the  sunshine  comes  from  and 
how  to  get  it  is  the  kind  of  helper  the  world  is  looking 
for,  and  the  person  who  can  hearten  you  is  the  one 
who  finds  an  open  door  in  any  house.  And  you've 
done  every  one  of  them  things,  every  one.  Mrs. 
McDougal  has  told  you  how  the  Mill-ites  and  the 

234 


THE   TESTIMONY   PARTY 

Factory-ites  and  the  Sick-ites  and  the  Tired-ites  and 
the—" 

"  Orphan-ites."  It  was  Minna's  shrill  little  voice 
that  filled  Mr.  Milligan's  pause  as  he  hesitated  for 
another  ite,  and  she  shook  the  paper  at  him  ex 
citedly. 

"The  Orphan-ites."  He  bowed  toward  the  quiver 
ing  child.  "  Mrs.  McDougal  has  told  you  what  these 
feel,  and  thanked  you  for  all  of  them,  and  I  am  here 
as  a  member  of  Yorkburg's  council  to  thank  you 
again  for  what  you  have  done  for  the  town  in  stirring 
of  us  up.  Everything  you  jolted  us  about  is  coming 
on  well,  and  the  public  baths  at  Milltown,  the  gift 
of  your  unknown  friend,  will  make  for  godliness  next 
summer,  if  they  don't  do  much  in  cold  weather. 
And  if  we  can  get  hot  water  they  may  help  the  cause 
of  righteousness  this  winter.  We  hope  we  are  going 
to  keep  you  here  forever,  but  as  there  ain't  many 
marrying  men  to  match  you  in  these  parts  it  ain't 
impossible  that  in  time  you  may  go  away,  and  if  that 
time  should  come  'twould  be  a  sorrowful  day  for 
many  in  this  town.  But  if  it  should  please  you  to 
stay  single  and  live  with  us  we'll  thank  God  for  an 
old  maid  like  you,  and  pray  Him  to  make  more  of 
your  kind.  The  world  needs  'em.  And  now  Mr. 
Jernigan  will  speak  for  the  mill,  and  his  son  Jamie 
for  the  children,  and  Minna  Haskins  for  the  orphans. 
Mr.  Jernigan,  ladies  and  gentlemen!" 

As  Mr.  Jernigan  came  forward  Mrs.  McDougal 

235 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

pulled  Mary  Cary  from  the  table  upon  which  she  had 
been  half  sitting  into  the  chair  at  her  side.  "Set 
down,  Miss  Mary,"  she  said  in  a  half-whisper. 
"You  look  like  a  pink  peony  turnin'  purple.  Any 
body  would  think  you  warn't  even  a  sinner  saved  by 
grace,  you're  that  abject.  You  ain't  doin'  nothin' 
sinful.  Set  up  and  take  your  posies  like  a  lady. 
You  look  like  you're  takin'  punishment,  that  you  do!" 

Mr.  Jernigan's  speech  was  largely  lost  between  the 
clearing  of  his  throat  and  the  blowing  of  his  nose, 
and  more  time  than  words  was  used  in  its  delivery. 
But  he  managed  to  bring  greetings  from  his  fellow- 
workmen,  and,  as  he  sat  down,  Miss  Gibbie  led  the 
vigorous  applause  which  followed,  and  nodded  en 
couragingly  to  his  wife,  who  had  hung  proudly  and 
anxiously  upon  his  disconnected  sentences. 

Next  came  Jamie,  lame  Jamie,  who  hobbled 
bravely  forward  on  his  crutches,  his  little  white  face 
pinched  by  pain,  full  for  once  with  happy  glow,  and, 
as  he  placed  them  against  the  table,  irresistibly  Mary 
Gary's  hand  went  out  to  his  and  she  held  it  tight. 

"An  orignal  poem  by  Master  James  Jernigan," 
announced  Mrs.  McDougal,  half  rising  from  tier  seat 
and  waving  her  hand  in  Jamie's  direction.  "Made 
up  and  writ  by  himself." 

Jamie's  head  bowed,  then  he  looked  at  his  mother, 
flushed  and  eager,  whose  lips  were  already  making 
the  movements  of  the  words  he  was  to  utter,  then  at 
the  girl  by  his  side,  and?  with  another  bow,  began: 

236 


THE   TESTIMONY    PARTY 

"I'm  just  a  little  boy  who's  lame, 

And  couldn't  used  to  walk  a  step. 
But  now  I  can,  and  I  will  tell 

How  me  and  my  fine  crutches  met. 

'Twas  on  a  clear  day  and  the  bells  they  were  ringing, 
And  I  in  my  bed  could  hear  the  birds  singing. 
But  I  couldn't  to  church  or  to  anywhere  go, 
For  my  legs  couldn't  walk,  not  to  save  my  life. 

And  then  Miss  Mary  she  came  in, 
And  said,  'Why,  Jamie,  'tis  a  sin 
You  can't  go  out  like  other  boys. 
I'll  go  and  get  you  some  new  toys.' 

And  when  she  came  back  the  toys  they  were  crutches 

And  a  chair  I  could  wheel  myself  in. 
And  now  maybe  I  can  play  like  other  boys  some  day. 
'Cause  the   pain   is   near  'bout  well,  and   I   can  holler 
when  they  play. 

And  for  all  little  children  who  ain't  here  to  say 
They  think  she's  just  grand  and  a  dear, 

I  will  just  say  for  all,  if  she  marries  at  all, 
We'll  kill  him  if  of  her  he  don't  take  good  care." 

A  stamping  of  feet  and  loud  clapping  of  hands 
greeted  this  first  effort  of  a  youthful  poet,  and,  as  he 
started  to  go  back  to  his  seat,  Mary  Gary  drew  him 
to  her  and  made  him  share  her  chair. 

"Oh,  Jamie,  Jamie,"  she  whispered,  her  face  hid- 
237 


den  behind  the  tumbled  brown  curls,  "  how  could  you 
write  such  fairy  tales!  They  were  beautiful  verses, 
Jamie,  but  you  know  they  were  not  true.  They— 

"  Yes'm,  they  was."  Jamie's  head  nodded  affirm 
atively.  "They  was  true  as  truth.  Look  there — 
that  little  Minna  Haskins  is  goin'  to  speak." 

Minna's  time  had  come  at  last.  In  Peggy's  lap 
she  had  been  wriggling  through  the  other  speeches, 
shutting  her  eyes  at  intervals  and  repeating  under  her 
breath  the  words  she  was  to  say,  and  when  her  name 
was  called  she  ran  forward  joyously,  holding  tight  in 
her  hands  the  precious  document  with  which  she 
had  been  intrusted.  Arms  at  her  sides  and  heels 
together,  she  bowed,  then  shook  the  paper  in 
the  air. 

"It's  on  here,"  she  said,  "what  I'm  going  to  say. 
A  committee  wrote  it.  Three  of  the  girls  they  learned 
it  to  me.  And  it's  to  be  yours,  Miss  Mary,  forever 
and  ever,  because  it's  res'lutions."  She  held  out  the 
paper,  then  drew  it  back.  "I  forgot — I  wasn't  to 
give  it  to  you  till  I  was  through.  I'll  begin." 
And  like  water  out  of  a  pitcher  the  words  poured 
forth : 

"Whereas,  it  has  pleased  Almighty  God  to  put  in 
our  midst  a  beautiful  young  lady  who  once  lived  here 
herself  and  has  never  forgot  about  it,  and  loves  little 
children  and  does  all  she  can  to  make  them  happy, 
and  don't  like  ugly  clothes  and  the  same  kind  of 
food  and  monot'nous  living,  but  believes  orphans 

238 


THE   TESTIMONY   PARTY 

are  just  like  other  children  inside  and  out  except 
they  haven't  fathers  and  mothers  and  anybody  much, 
and  she  knows  how  that  feels,  and, 

"Whereas,  she  came  back  to  this  very  old  town, 
most  all  history  and  some  factories,  and  has  helped 
a  lot  and  got  some  things  changed,  and  gives  parties 
and  picnics  now  and  then,  and, 

"Whereas — "  She  stopped  suddenly  and  her 
voice  fell.  "Whereas  oughtn't  to  come  there.  There 
ain't  but  three  whereases,  because  Sallie  Green  copied 
them  out  of  a  paper  when  Mr.  Joynes  died,  just 
changing  to  suit  a  live  person,  and  the  last  one  comes 
way  down.  Wait  a  minute !"  She  shut  her  eyes  tight 
and  mumbled  rapidly  to  herself,  then  looked  up 
triumphantly.  "And  gives  picnics  now  and  then 
and  makes  us  feel  like  human  beings  though  she's 
right  managing  at  times  and  don't  allow  impertence, 
and, 

"Whereas,  we  love  her  fit  to  die, 

"Therefore,  be  it  resolved  that  we  will  tell  her  so 
and  tell  her  she'll  never  know  how  much,  and  we 
thank  her  and  thank  her  and  thank  her. 

"And  a  copy  of  these  res'lutions  is  ordered  to  be 
spread  on  paper  and  on  her  heart,  and  we  will  spread 
them  on  ours. 

"  KITTY  MOUNTCASTLE 
"JESSIE  ROYALL 
"MARGARET  POTTS 
"AND  ME/' 
239 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

The  last  two  words  were  emphasized  by  a  low  bow, 
then,  turning,  she  ran  into  Mary  Gary's  outstretched 
arms,  and  threw  hers  around  her  neck. 

"Oh,  Miss  Mary,  I'm  so  glad  I've  said  it,  and  I 
didn't  miss  but  once.  Here  they  are!"  The  paper 
was  thrust  in  her  hand.  "I  didn't  help  write  these, 
but  I  wrote  some  once  when  my  grandfather  died. 
I  remember  just  as  well— 

"Minna,  Minna!"  Mary  Gary  lifted  the  excited 
little  face  from  her  shoulder  and  kissed  her  lips. 
"Your  grandfather  died  before  you  were  born,  but 
you  remembered  splendidly  to  -  night.  I  don't 
see—" 

"Pooh!  That  wasn't  anything!"  Minna's  eyes 
were  raised  to  the  ceiling.  "All  I've  got  to  do  is  to 
hear  a  thing  and  I  can  say  it.  I  can  say  Shakes 
peare  if  you  want  me  to." 

Mary  Gary  got  up.  "Mercy,  no!  Don't  say  any 
thing  else  if  you  love  me.  Run  back  to  Peggy  and 
keep  still  for  just  a  minute  more."  She  stood  at  the 
table,  looking  at  Mrs,  McDougal  speaking  to  Hed- 
wig,  who  a  moment  later  came  back  with  a  large 
knife  and  handed  it  to  her,  and,  as  she  took  it,"^tary 
Gary  dropped  back  into  her  chair. 

Flourishing  the  knife,  Mrs.  McDougal  advanced 
to  the  cake,  then  turned  to  the  others  sitting  stiff  and 
upright  in  their  chairs,  and  bowed  again.  "The 
ceremonies  is  over  and  the  cake  will  be  cut.  And 
then  maybe  you'll  open  your  mouths  and  say  some- 

240 


THE   TESTIMONY   PARTY 

thing.  You're  settin'  like  you're  at  a  funeral.  Them 
resolutions  sounded  like  it,  but  you  mustn't  mind 
them,  Miss  Mary" — she  turned  to  the  latter  in  a 
whisper — "they  didn't  have  much  time  to  make  up 
anything,  and  I  asked  Miss  Samson  just  to  let  'em  say 
something  from  their  hearts,  and  they  thought  reso 
lutions  was  more  dignified  than  plain  every-day 
speech,  and  more  respectful.  I  asked  for  a  testimony 
and  for  Minna  Raskins  to  say  it.  She's  such  a  little 
devil  and  so  fond  of  you.  Maybe  now  you'd  like  to 
say  something  yourself?"  She  rapped  on  the  table 
for  silence.  "Miss  Mary  Gary  would  like  to  say 
something,  and  when  she's  through  we'll  eat." 

For  half  a  moment  Mary  Gary  leaned  against  the 
library  table,  her  hands  behind  her  clasping  it  with 
an  intensity  of  which  she  was  not  conscious,  and  for 
a  moment  more  words  would  not  come.  Slowly  the 
hot  color  died  out  of  her  face  and  her  lips  quiv 
ered. 

"No,"  she  said,  presently.  "No.  I  can't  say 
anything.  When  we  feel  much  we  can  say  little,  and 
I  couldn't  tell  you  how  you  have — have  humbled  me; 
but  I  do  thank  you  for  your  kind,  kind  words.  It  is 
not  I  you  should  thank,  however.  I  have  done  so 
little.  I  could  have  done  nothing  had  it  not  been 
for  Yorkburg's  friend.  I  had  nothing  to  give 
but-" 

"Love,  which  is  what  few  have,  judging  by 
the  sparse  way  it's  handed  out."  Mrs.  McDougal 

241 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

stuck  the  knife  in  the  cake  and  left  it  there,  then 
waved  her  hand.  "Go  on!  Go  on!" 

"I  had  only — love  to  give  when  I  came  back,  and 
love  by  itself  can't  do  what  it  would.  It  needs  money 
to  help.  Money  without  love  may  not  be  much,  but 
love  with  money — "  Her  voice  broke. 

"Is  hard  to  beat.  Just  tell  your  friend  we  thank 
him  hearty,  or  her  if  it's  a  her.  When  love  and 
money  married  get,  their  children  will  be  great,  you 
bet."  Mrs.  McDougal  threw  back  her  head,  and 
her  hearty  laugh  was  joined  in  by  none  more  heartily 
than  Miss  Gibbie,  who  used  the  opportunity  to  put 
her  handkerchief  to  her  nose  and  keep  it  there 
awhile.  "Bless  my  soul,  if  I  ain't  made  a  rhyme! 
Thirty-seven  and  never  did  it  before!  Luck  and  acci 
dents  come  to  all,  my  grandmother  used  to  say,  and 
when  I  speaks  poetry  on  the  spot  it's  both  together. 
I'm  real  proud  of  myself,  that  I  am!  That's  all 
right,  Miss  Mary;  don't  you  try  to  say  nothin'.  We 
understand  you,  and  we  just  want  you  to  understand 
us."  She  pulled  her  by  the  sleeve.  "There's  Miss 
Hedwig  standin'  in  the  door  lookin'  at  you.  , Good 
ness  gracious!  If  she  ain't  gone  and  set  a  spread  on 
the  dining-room  table,  and  me  ready  to  cut  the  cake 
this  minute!  Looks  like  we're  goin'  to  have  a  party, 
after  all.  Miss  Mary,  you  blow  out  this  candle,  and 
I'll  light  it  again  when  we  get  in  the  dining-room." 
She  dropped  her  voice.  "Here,  get  behind  me  and 
wipe  your  eyes  if  you  want  to.  Got  a  handkerchief? 

242 


THE    TESTIMONY    PARTY 

Ain't  our  eyes  funny  ?  Trickle  when  there  ain't  a 
bit  of  sense  in  it.  Are  you  through  ?"  She  lifted  the 
cake  triumphantly.  "My!  but  I'm  glad  I'm  livin'! 
If  there's  anything  I  do  love  in  life  'tis  a  party,  and  I 
ain't  been  to  one  since  I  married  McDougal,  and 
that's  more'n  nineteen  years  ago!" 


XX 


D 


A   SUDDEN    CHANGE 

ULL  gray  skies,  a  sobbing  wind,  and  rain 
falling  in  monotonous  regularity  greeted 
the  day  following  the  testimony  party. 
The  contrast  in  temperature  and  condition 
was  not  cheerful,  and  as  Mary  Gary  stood 
upon  the  porch  looking  down  the  road 
which  led  to  Yorkburg  she  shivered  in  the  damp, 
cold  air,  then  breathed  deeply  that  her  lungs  might 
have  their  bath. 

"It's  between  the  twenty-four  hours  that  all  the 
changes  in  life  come,  I  suppose,  but  a  change  like 
this  makes  yesterday  seem  ages  ago.  Was  it  really 
yesterday  Peggy  and  I  ran  like  the  King  of  France 
down  hill  and  up  again  ?  and  just  last  night  we  had 
that  dear,  queer,  precious  party  ?" 

She  sighed  happily  and  began  to  walk  up  and 
down  the  porch.  "It's  too  bad  John  and  Mr.  Field 
ing  should  happen  to  be  here  together.  John 
despises  Mr.  Fielding.  I  don't  wonder.  When  he 
shakes  hands  with  me  I'm  so  afraid  he'll  hear  me 
shiver  I  hold  my  breath.  And  yet  he's  a  very  gener- 

244 


A   SUDDEN   CHANGE 

ous  man.  If  I'd  allow  him  he'd  give  me  any  amount 
needed  for  any  object.  I'd  as  soon  allow  him  to  give 
me  poison  as  a  check  for  library,  or  baths,  or  the 
asylum,  or  anything  else  in  Yorkburg.  I'm  sorry 
he's  here,  but  I  couldn't  prevent  his  coming,  not 
knowing  he  intended  doing  so  until  he  arrived. 
And  John  just  wrote  day  before  yesterday  he'd  be 
here  to-day.  I  haven't  been  very  polite  to  Mr. 
Fielding,  but  he  has  no  reason  to  expect  me  to  be 
polite.  I've  told  him  I  would  never  marry  him 
and  there  wasn't  the  slightest  use  in  coming  here, 
but  I  might  as  well  talk  to  the  wind.  If  for  him 
there's  to  be  transmigration,  he'll  be  a  rubber  ball 
next  time.  He's  as  persistent  as  John — that  is,  as 
John  used  to  be.  For  nearly  six  months  John  has 
forgotten  he  ever  wanted  to  marry  me.  I  understand 
he  and  Lily  Deford  have  become  great  friends.  Mrs. 
Deford  never  loses  an  opportunity  of  telling  me  so." 
She  threw  back  her  head  and  laughed.  "Lily 
Deford !  What  on  earth  does  he  talk  to  her  about  ? 
Hand  embroidery  and  silk  stockings  are  Lily's  spe 
cialties,  and  she  rarely  gets  beyond  either  in  words  or 
deeds.  She's  a  pretty  little  powder  puff,  and  I'd  feel 
sorry  for  her  if  she  wasn't  so  ma-ridden  and  spineless. 
But  if  John  enjoys  her —  She  shut  her  eyes  tight, 
a  trick  caught  unconsciously  from  Miss  Gibbie,  then 
turned  and  went  indoors.  And  in  the  hall  Hedwig 
heard  her  humming  cheerfully  as  she  put  on  rain 
coat  and  overshoes  and  made  ready  for  a  walk  to  town. 

245 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

An  hour  later  the  meeting  called  in  Mr.  Moon's 
office  to  settle  certain  matters  relating  to  the  recent 
planting  of  trees  was  over,  and,  leaving  the  mills, 
Mary  Gary  turned  into  King  Street.  The  driving 
rain  of  the  morning  had  slackened  somewhat,  but  the 
street  was  deserted,  the  hour  being  that  of  Yorkburg's 
dinner,  and  as  she  neared  the  upper  end  nothing  was 
in  sight  but  a  stray  dog  whose  wet  tail  flapped  in  de 
jected  appeal  for  the  door  before  which  he  stood  to 
be  opened. 

"You  poor  thing!"  She  stooped  and  patted  the 
shivering  creature.  "I've  felt  sometimes  like  you 
look,  but  I  hope  I'll  never  look  like  you  feel."  The 
door  was  opened,  and  with  an  extra  flourish  of  tail  and 
a  yelp  of  gratitude  the  dog  disappeared,  and  again  she 
started  up  the  street. 

Only  the  drip  of  the  rain,  the  trickle  of  water  in  the 
gutters,  and  the  flap  of  the  torn  awning  in  front  of 
the  drug  store  broke  the  sullen  stillness,  and  then 
some  distance  ahead  she  saw  a  man  and  a  woman, 
under  an  umbrella  held  close  to  their  heads,  coming 

7  O 

slowly  toward  her.  The  slowness  of  their  walk  caught 
her  attention,  but  the  intentness  of  their  talk  made 
them  unconscious  of  her  approach,  and  not  until  she 
was  quite  near  them  was  the  umbrella  held  by  the 
man  lifted  so  that  she  could  see  who  he  was.  She 
stopped  suddenly  as  if  hit,  and  in  her  face  the  color 
surged  so  hotly  that  the  damp  air  stung. 

"Why,  Mary!"    John  Maxwell's  umbrella  dropped 
246 


A   SUDDEN   CHANGE 

to  the  ground,  and  with  hat  in  his  left  hand  he  ex 
tended  his  right  in  frank  joy  at  seeing  her.  "What 
in  the  world  are  you  doing  out  on  a  day  like  this  ?" 

"Enjoying  myself."  The  hand  held  eagerly  tow 
ard  her  was  barely  touched.  "How  do  you  do,  Lily  ? 
Are  you  out  for  fun,  too  ?" 

"Oh  no!  I'm  out  for — "  She  turned  helplessly 
to  the  man  beside  her.  In  his  face  the  color  had 
leaped  as  swiftly  as  it  had  in  Mary's,  but  in  his  it  died 
as  quickly  as  it  came,  and  her  cool  greeting  whitened 
it.  "I  came  out  to  get  some  embroidery  cotton 
number  thirty-six  from  Simcoe's  and  met  Mr.  Max 
well  coming  from  the  inn.  He  was — : 

"Fortunate  to  meet  you.  When  did  you  get  in, 
John  ?"  She  asked  the  question  as  if  for  the  time  of 
day,  opened  her  bag,  took  from  it  her  handkerchief, 
and  wiped  her  face.  "I  believe  my  umbrella  leaks. 
My  face  is  actually  wet." 

"I  got  in  yesterday  afternoon.  I  went  by  to  see 
Miss  Gibbie  and  heard  she  was  spending  the  evening 
with  you." 

"So  he  came  to  see  us.  Wasn't  it  good  of  him  ?" 
And  Lily,  whose  slow  brain  was  confused  by  an  unde 
fined  something  she  could  not  understand,  looked 
first  at  one  and  then  the  other.  "  I  wanted  mam-ma 
to  send  for  Mr.  Brickhouse  so  we  could  play  cards, 
but  she  wouldn't  do  it  and  went  to  bed  by  nine 
o'clock.  Mam-ma  never  will  play  cards  with  Mn. 
Maxwell;  says  he's  too  good  a  player.  But  won't 
17  247 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

you  come  in  some  evening  while  he's  here,  Mary,  and 
play  with  us  ?  I'll  get  five  more  people  and  that  will 
make  two  tables.  Mr.  Maxwell  is  going  to  stay 
some  time." 

"  Is  he  ?"  Mary  Gary  fastened  the  buttons  of  her 
left  glove,  then  held  her  umbrella  straight,  as  if  to  go 
on.  "I'm  sorry  I  can't  come  in  for  cards  while  he's 
here,  but  I  don't  care  for  cards."  She  laughed 
lightly  and  nodded.  "Too  bad  I've  kept  you  stand 
ing  in  the  rain.  Good-bye!"  And  she  started  off*. 

"Hold  on  a  minute,  Mary!"  Hat  still  in  hand, 
John  handed  the  umbrella  to  Lily  Deford  and  took  a 
few  steps  behind  her.  "What  time  are  you  going  out 
this  afternoon  ?  I'll  come  by  for  you.  May  I  stay  to 
tea  ?  I  must  see  you  this  evening." 

"  Must  you  ?"  She  shook  the  rain  off  her  um 
brella.  "I'm  sorry,  but  I  have  an  engagement  this 
evening." 

He  looked  at  her  as  if  not  understanding.  "You 
mean  I  can't  come  ?"  His  face  flushed,  and  a  quick 
frown  swept  over  it. 

Her  shoulders  shrugged  slightly,  a  movement  she 
knew  he  disliked.  "If  you  prefer  to  so  put  4: — that 
is  what  I  mean." 

His  clear  gray  eyes  were  searching  hers  as  if  what 
he  had  heard  was  unbelievable.  "Your  engagements 
must  be  very  imperative.  I  have  not  seen  you  for 
nearly  six  months  and  naturally  my  time  here  must  be 
short." 

248 


A  SUDDEN   CHANGE 

Mary  Gary  looked  up,  and  the  smile  on  her  face 
was  one  he  did  not  know.  "Short?  I  understood 
Lily  to  say  a  minute  ago  you  would  be  here  some 
time." 

"Lily  knows  nothing  about  it." 

"No  ?"  Again  her  eyebrows  lifted.  "She  seemed 
to  speak  with  authority.  But  whether  she  did  or  not, 
it  is  hardly  kind  to  keep  her  standing  in  the  rain. 
Don't  you  think  you  had  better  go  back  to  her  ?" 

"I  think  I  had."  He  looked  down,  and  then 
again  in  her  baffling  eyes.  "You  haven't  on  your 
overshoes.  Your  feet  are  soaking  wet." 

She  too  looked  down.  "I  started  out  with  them. 
Guess  I  left  them  in  Mr.  Moon's  office.  Are  you 
sure  Lily  has  on  hers  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  whether  she  has  or  not.  Lily  can 
take  care  of  her  own  feet." 

"And  I  of  mine.  Standing  on  wet  ground  isn't 
good  for  them.  Good-bye!"  And  with  a  half-nod 
she  walked  on  up  the  street. 

What  was  it  ?  What  was  the  matter  with  her  ? 
Her  blood  was  pounding  through  heart  and  brain, 
and  the  damp  air  on  her  face  only  added  to  its  burn 
ing.  In  her  eyes  was  an  angry  light,  and  she  bit  her 
lips  lest  they  make  movements  of  the  words  which 
sprang  to  them. 

"Got  here  yesterday!  Didn't  come  out,  didn't 
telephone,  spent  the  evening  at  the  Defords',  and 
with  Lily  the  first  thing  this  morning.  Wants  to 

249 


see  me  this  evening !"  Her  head  went  up.  "I  guess 
not.  His  time  will  probably  be  short.  With  me  it 
will  certainly  be  short.  What  did  he  come  for  if  only 
to  stay  a  little  while  ?"  In  her  face  indignation  faded 
into  incredulity  and  her  lips  curved.  "To  see  the 
little  powder  puff,  I  suppose!  Well,  he  can  see  her. 
I'll  certainly  not  take  his  time.  For  nearly  six 
months  it  has  pleased  him  to  stay  away,  to  write 
scraps  of  letters  at  long  intervals,  to  send  nothing,  do 
nothing  that  he  used  to  do.  And  now  he  comes  back 
and  expects  me  to  receive  him  with  outstretched 
arms.  He  expects  wrong!" 

She  reached  the  Moons'  gate,  hesitated,  and  walked 
on.  Lunch  was  to  be  taken  with  them,  but  the  sud 
den  transition  from  expected  sensations  to  the  un 
expected  made  it  best  to  stay  in  the  cold  air  a  while 
longer,  and  without  a  look  toward  the  house  she 
passed  it  hurriedly. 

What  was  the  matter  with  John  ?  For  ten  years 
he  had  been  the  friend  who  never  failed — the  friend 
to  whom  she  could  always  turn  and  know  what  to 
find;  the  one  to  whom  subconsciously  all  things  were 
referred,  and  who,  without  always  agreeing  with  her, 
always  stood  by  her.  What  was  the  matter  with 
him  r 

Walking  as  if  to  catch  a  train,  and  yet  without 
looking  where  she  was  going,  she  turned  into  Pelham 
Place  and  neared  Miss  Gibbie's  house.  Her  eyes 
were  upon  it  in  indecision,  and  not  seeing  the  puddle 

250 


A   SUDDEN   CHANGE 

of  water  ahead,  she  stepped  into  it  and  splashed  well 
with  mud  the  low  shoes  and  thin  stockings  she  was 
wearing.  The  sudden  chill  provoked  her,  and  she 
looked  down  at  her  wet  feet. 

"Of  course  he  saw  I  had  on  no  overshoes.  He 
always  sees  the  things  I  leave  off*  and  don't  do  and 
thinks  I'm  nothing  but  a  child.  Suppose  I  am! 
What  business  is  it  of  his  whether  I  wear  over 
shoes  or  not  ?  What  business  is  it  of  his  what  I  do 
or  where  I  go  or  what  I  say  ?  We  are  nothing  to  each 
other!" 

The  thought  stopped  her.  For  a  moment  she 
shivered  in  the  damp,  penetrating  wind,  then  hur 
riedly  passed  Miss  Gibbie's  house.  She  would  not 
go  in.  No  one  must  see  her  until  she  grew  calmer. 
But  what  was  she  angry  about  ?  She  didn't  know, 
only — only  for  weeks  she  had  been  looking  forward 
to  John's  coming.  She  had  expected  him  the  first 
of  October,  but  the  month  passed  and  he  had  not 
come.  Then  came  a  hurried  note  merely  saying  he 
would  reach  Yorkburg  on  the  thirtieth,  and  the 
vague  unrest  of  past  days  faded.  She  hadn't  been 
as  nice  to  John  as  she  ought  to  have  been,  had  taken 
too  much  as  a  matter  of  course  perhaps,  but  this 
time  she  was  going  to  be  really  very  good.  There 
were  many  things  to  talk  over,  and  she  wanted,  too, 
to  hear  about  his  trip.  She  had  visited  Norway,  but 
the  stay  was  short,  and  she  would  like  to  go  again. 
She  had  honestly  intended  to  be  very  nice,  and  only 

251 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

a  few  hours  ago  she  had  talked  with  Hedwig  about 
supper,  deciding  on  the  things  John  liked  best.  And 
now — 

She  laughed,  and  for  the  first  time  in  her  life  her 
laughter  had  a  bitter  tinge. 

"Good-morning!  The  girl  worth  while  is  the  girl 
who  can  smile,  when  the  rain — " 

She  looked  up.  The  man  in  front  of  her  was 
blocking  her  way.  He  touched  his  hat,  but  did  not 
lift  it,  and  at  sight  of  him  she  frowned.  There  were 
times  when  she  loathed  Horatio  Fielding. 

"Good-morning!"  Her  tone  was  short,  then,  a 
sudden  thought  occurring,  she  changed  it.  "You 
evidently  like  to  walk  in  the  rain  as  much  as  I  do. 
Suppose  you  come  out  to  tea  to-nighto  I  was  going 
to  telephone,  but  this  will  save  time."  She  started 
to  pass  on.  "We  have  tea  at  seven." 

"I'll  be  there.  In  front  of  your  fire  is  the  place 
for  me.  But  can't  I  walk  with  you  ?  You  seem  in 
an  awful  hurry  this  morning." 

"I  am.  Have  an  engagement.  Will  see  you  to 
night."  And  as  if  to  escape  what  was  unendurable 
she  hurried  on,  and  again  turned  into  King  Street. 

"Two  stories  in  half  an  hour  is  doing  well  for  one 
who  hates  a  lie  as  nothing  on  earth  is  hated,"  she  said 
under  her  breath,  holding  the  umbrella  close  down 
over  her  head.  "A  little  more  time  and  you  may  lie 
without  efForto  You  told  John  you  had  an  engage 
ment.  I  thought  I  did,  with  him.  And  you  had  no 

252 


A  SUDDEN   CHANGE 

more  idea  of  telephoning  Mr.  Fielding  before  you 
saw  him  than  of  telephoning  the—  I'd  much  rather 
telephone  the  latter.  He'd  certainly  be  more  en 
tertaining  and  far  more  polished.  It  isn't  Mr.  Field 
ing's  dulness  that  is  so  unpardonable,  but  his  hor 
rible  cocksureness  and  insufferable  assurance.  He 
doesn't  eat  with  his  knife,  but  only  from  obvious  re 
straint,  and  in  an  unguarded  moment  he'll  do  it  yet. 
He  could  never  be  convinced  that  if  a  woman  had 
fine  clothes  and  carriages  and  bejewelled  fingers  and 
throat  that  she  could  wish  for  something  else.  To 
him  a  woman  is  property."  She  drew  in  her  breath. 
"After  a  visit  from  him  I  need  prayers  and  want  in 
cense.  And  I've  asked  him  to  eat  John's  supper 
to-night!" 

The  wind  had  changed,  and  the  rain,  coming  down 
in  heavy,  shifting  sheets,  beat  upon  her  umbrella  with 
such  force  that  only  with  difficulty  could  it  be  held. 
Her  feet  were  wet,  loose  strands  of  hair,  damp  and 
breeze-blown,  brushed  in  irritating  tappings  across 
her  face,  and  as  she  again  neared  Mrs.  Moon's 
house  she  knew  she  must  go  in. 

Sarah  Sue  had  seen  her  coming,  and  the  door  was 
opened  when  she  reached  it.  "What  in  the  world 
made  you  go  by  here  half  an  hour  ago  instead  of 
coming  in  ?"  she  asked,  taking  the  umbrella  and 
helping  ofF  with  the  raincoat.  "I  knocked  on  the 
window  and  called  you,  but  you  didn't  hear.  Aren't 
your  shoes  wet?  Soaking!  Come  right  on  up  to 

253 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

my  room  and  put  your  feet  on  my  fender  and  get 
them  good  and  hot.  My  slippers  and  stockings  are 
too  big,  but  you  can  keep  them  on  until  yours  are 
dry.  I  don't  understand  why  you  didn't  come  in 
first." 

Sarah  Sue  led  the  way  up-stairs,  followed  by  Mary 
Gary,  who  had  submitted  to  comments  and  questions 
and  the  off-taking  of  wraps  without  reply,  but  half 
way  up  the  steps  she  stopped  and  turned  back. 

"A  package  was  left  here  for  you  just  now,"  she 
said.  "I'd  better  give  it  to  you  before  I  forget." 
She  took  up  the  bundle  on  the  hall-table  and  came 
back  with  it. 

"What  is  it  ?"  Mary's  voice  was  indifferent  as  she 
broke  the  wrapping;  then  as  she  saw  the  writing  on 
it  she  frowned.  "It's  nothing — just  my  overshoes." 
She  threw  them  down  the  steps  and  under  the  table 
from  which  Sarah  Sue  had  taken  them. 


XXI 


THE   RELEASE 

N  the  fifteenth  of  each  October  the  turkey- 
wing  fan,  rarely  out  of  Miss  Gibbie's  hands 
in  warm  weather,  was  put  away  in  cam 
phor,  and  on  that  evening  knitting-needles 
and  white  Shetland  wool  were  brought  out. 
In  a  basket  of  rare  weaving  these  materials 

o 

now  lay  on  the  library  table  near  which  Miss  Gibbie 
sat,  but  as  yet  they  were  untouched,  for  before  the 
open  fire  her  hands  lay  idle  in  her  lap.  Every  now 
and  then  she  lifted  first  one  foot  and  then  the  other 
and  put  it  on  the  fender,  and  presently  she  drew 
closer  the  tall  screen  with  its  framed  square  of  tapes 
tried  lambs  and  shepherdess  wrought  by  her  grand 
mother's  fingers  many  years  ago.  Placing  it  so  that 
her  face  might  be  protected  from  the  scorching  heat 
of  the  dancing  flames,  she  tilted  it  at  the  right  angle, 
and  then  tilted  her  head  also. 

"No  use  blistering  my  face  because  young  people 
prefer  to  be  fools!"  she  said,  presently.  "And  what 
fools!  You  might  have  known,  Gibbie  Gault,  you'd 
make  a  mess  of  it  if  you  put  your  finger  in  a  lovers' 

255 


MISS   GIBBIE  GAULT 

pie.  If  life  has  taught  you  nothing  else  it  has  taught 
you  to  let  people  do  their  own  paddling,  and  yet  at 
your  age  you  tried  to  steer  a  man  in  a  way  he  didn't 
want  to  go.  You  thought  it  was  the  wisest  way,  and 
in  the  end  would  bring  him  to  the  promised  land, 
but  your  mistake  lay  in  not  letting  him  fall  over 
board  the  way  he  preferred  to  fall.  A  man  would 
rather  fail  according  to  his  own  ideas  than  succeed 
according  to  another's.  And  you  certainly  can't 
say  this  little  arrangement  of  yours  concerning  John 
and  Mary  has  proven  a  brilliant  one.  Of  the  three 
simpletons,  just  at  present,  you  deserve  what's  com 
ing  to  you  more  than  the  other  two,  for  better  than 
they  you  understand  that  woman  is  an  unknown 
quantity.  Even  her  Maker  couldn't  anticipate  her 
behavior,  and  when  she  wills  to  torment  a  man  she 
has  seemingly  neither  soul  nor  sense.  In  your  wise 
and  worldly  advice  to  John  you  forgot  Mary's  pos 
sibilities  of  denseness,  and  your  meddlesome  medi 
cine  has  had  the  wrong  effect." 

She  sighed  queerly  and  changed  the  left  foot  on 
the  fender  to  the  right,  and  again  tapped  the  arms 
of  her  chair  with  the  tips  of  her  delicately  pointed 
fingers.  "What  a  silly,  sensitive  little  thing  this  self- 
love,  this  pride  of  ours,  is!  And  it's  Mary's  hardiest 
sin.  She  wouldn't  let  the  angels  of  heaven  take  her 
up  to-day  and  put  her  down  to-morrow,  and  while 
she  laughs  at  much  in  life,  there  are  certain  things 
she  doesn't  smile  at.  A  friend  who  fails  in  her  eyes 

256 


THE    RELEASE 

isn't  even  in  a  class  with  toads.  She  has  an  idea 
that  John  is  no  longer  the  friend  of  old.  She  does 
not  say  so,  has  apparently  forgotten  he's  living, 
rarely  mentions  his  name,  and  doesn't  know  that  my 
old  eyes  see  clearly  how  gayly  miserable  she  is.  I 
have  pretended  to  be  blind,  and  have  encouraged  the 
idea  that  John  was  interested  in  that  pink-and-white 
offspring  of  Snobby  Deford.  What  a  bunch  of  idiots 
we  all  have  been,  and  I  the  biggest  of  all — the  biggest 
of  all!" 

At  the  library  door  Celia  stood,  hand  on  knob. 
"Mr.  Maxwell  is  here,  Miss  Gibbie.  Will  you  see 
him  ?" 

"I  will."  Miss  Gibbie  leaned  back  in  her  chair, 
put  her  feet  on  the  stool  in  front  of  it,  and  crossed  her 
hands  in  her  lap.  "And  bring  in  tea  at  once." 

"It  is  good  of  you  to  let  me  see  you."  John  Max 
well  bent  over  the  beautiful  hand  held  out  to  him, 
but  the  boyish  banter  of  other  days  was  gone.  Be 
fore  Miss  Gibbie  was  no  pretence,  and  his  face  was 
that  of  a  man  who  no  longer  has  time  to  waste  or 
the  will  for  wasting. 

"Not  good  at  all.  If  you  hadn't  come  I  should 
have  sent  for  you."  She  tilted  the  screen  at  a 
different  angle.  "  Sit  down,  and  sit  where  I  can  see 
you.  But  first  put  that  table  a  little  closer  to  me. 
Here's  Celia  with  the  tea." 

The  table  was  moved  and  the  large  silver  tray 
with  its  little  silver  legs  was  placed  upon  it,  the  lamp 

257 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

under  the  kettle  lighted,  and  Celia  waved  out,  and 
again  Miss  Gibbie  leaned  back. 

"What  day  did  you  get  here  ?"  she  asked.  "Time 
has  such  a  somersault  way  of  passing,  one  can't 
keep  up  with  it.  How  long  have  you  been  here  ?" 

"Ten  days.  I  came  on  the  twenty-ninth,  and 
this  is  the  eighth  of  November." 

"When  are  you  going  away?" 

"I  don't  know."  John  crossed  his  right  leg  over 
his  left,  shifted  his  position  and  shaded  his  eyes  with 
his  hand. 

Miss  Gibbie  took  up  the  tea-caddy.  "Do  you 
think  you've  accomplished  great  things  by  coming  ? 
Judging  by  your  manner  of  late,  not  to  mention  your 
looks,  you  haven't  been  drunk  with  happiness  since 
you  reached  this  town  of  historic  importance  and 
modern  inconsequence.  But  of  course — "  she  tilted 
the  spout  of  the  kettle  into  the  teapot — "my  sug 
gestion  that  you  stay  where  you  belong  was  a  mere 
woman's,  and  you  saw  fit  to  ignore  it.  Men  like  to 
bring  blessings  on  their  head — and  my  friend  John 
Maxwell  is  most  verily  a  man." 

"You  seem  to  forget  it."  He  got  up  and  be'gan  to 
walk  backward  and  forward  the  length  of  the  room. 
"I  wonder  if  I  am  sometimes.  When  I  see  that 
round,  red,  moon-faced  pig  driving  around  town 
with  Mary,  taking  long  horseback  rides  with  her, 
and  going  to  see  her  whenever  he  pleases,  I  don't 
know  how  I  keep  from  killing  him.  He  isn't  fit  to  be 

258 


THE   RELEASE 

in  the  same  town  with  her.  I  know  the  man,  went 
to  school  with  him.  He's  a  cad  and  a  coward  and 
a  big  fat  fool.  He  has  some  money — that  is,  his  father 
has — and  a  smearing  of  education,  but  he's  coarse  and 
common  and  not  to  be  trusted.  Van  Orm  was  a 
gentleman  at  least,  and  if  Mary  wanted — " 

"Does  Mary  know  as  much  of  your  friend  Mr. 
Fielding  as  you  do  ?"  Miss  Gibbie  handed  him  a 
cup  of  tea,  but  he  waved  it  back. 

"If  she  doesn't  it's  because  she's  trying  to  be  blind 
and  deaf.  I  have  seen  practically  nothing  of  her 
since  I  came  down.  You  think  I  shouldn't  have 
come.  Perhaps  I  shouldn't,  but  I'm  here,  and  for  the 
present  am  going  to  stay.  For  six  months  I've  held 
off,  but  through  them  we've  been  generally  friendly, 
and  I  was  hoping  it  might  work,  the  thing  you  sug 
gested.  I  stayed  away  as  long  as  I  could.  But  I 
had  to  come.  I  had  to  see  for  myself — see  how  she 
was,  even  if  I  came  through  hell." 

"A  trip  through  hell  might  help  many  men.  The 
trouble  is  they  might  not  be  able  to  pass  through. 
Ten  days  of  it — " 

"Is  more  than  man  is  meant  to  stand.  You  are 
quite  right."  He  stopped  and  looked  down  at  her. 
"What  is  it?  What  is  the  matter  with  Mary  ?  She 
is  horribly  polite,  but  were  I  a  leper  she  could  not 
hold  herself  more  aloof.  Morning,  noon,  and  night 
she  has  engagements,  and  frequently  with  that  brass- 
coated  mine-owner  of  the  Middle  West.  Do  you 

259 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

think  " — his  face  darkened,  fear  had  unnerved  him — 
"do  you  think  she  has  any  idea  of  marrying  him?" 

Miss  Gibbie's  head  turned.  The  cup  on  its  way  to 
her  lips  was  held  back  and  her  left  eye  closed. 

"  Marrying  whom  ?  That  Fielding  person  ?"  The 
tea  was  blown  into  bubbles.  "He  uses  a  toothpick  in 
public.  Do  you  think  Mary  would  marry  a  thing  of 
that  kind  ?" 

He  laughed  begrudgingly.  "I  can't  imagine  it, 
but  neither  can  I  imagine  why  she  is  doing  what  she 
does — why  she  treats  me  as  if  I  were  the  most  in 
cidental  acquaintance." 

Miss  Gibbie  put  down  her  cup,  and  pushed  her 
chair  a  little  farther  from  the  fire.  "You  don't  have 
to,  John.  There  are  some  things  God  doesn't  ex 
pect  of  a  man.  One  is  to  see  through  a  woman.  He 
knows  the  limitations  of  the  male,  and  won't  hold  you 
responsible.  Sit  down!"  She  waved  to  the  chair  in 
front  of  her.  "I  can't  talk  to  any  one  I  can't  see." 

With  a  half-smile,  half-frown  John  took  his  seat, 
and  again  shaded  his  eyes  with  his  hand.  "Being 
that  dense  creature,  a  man,  I  would  appreciate  the 
opinion  of  an  illuminating  lady  on  the  tactic^  of  her 
sex.  What  have  I  done  to  bring  this  nonsense  to 
pass  i  I  make  no  pretence  of  understanding  any 
sort  of  woman,  much  less  Mary's  sort,  but  why  this 
charming  indifference  at  one  time,  this  indignant 
curtness  at  another?  I'm  in  the  air,  I  admit,  but 
I'm  here  to  stay  as  long  as  that  familiar-mannered 

260 


THE   RELEASE 

individual  stays.  I'd  like  Mary  to  understand  it, 
whether  she  wishes  to  or  not.  Would  you  mind 
making  the  intimation  ?  She  doesn't  give  me  the 
chance." 

Miss  Gibbie  tapped  her  lips  with  the  tips  of  her 
fingers,  blew  through  them  for  a  few  seconds,  then 
she  tilted  the  stool  over  and  kicked  it  aside. 

"  For  a  person  of  ordinary  sense  you  are  extraor 
dinarily  dull  at  times."  She  looked  at  him  long  and 
searchingly,  then  she  leaned  forward.  "Tell  me," 
she  said,  "  are  you  honestly  in  earnest  when  you  say 
you  don't  know  what  is  the  matter  with  Mary  ?" 

"With  God  as  witness — " 

"You're  such  a  fool!  Don't  you  see  she's  just 
found  out — she  loves  you  ?" 

Half  a  moment  he  stared  as  if  not  hearing.  In  the 
glow  of  firelight  she  saw  his  face  whiten;  then  he  got 
up  and  walked  to  the  window  behind  her.  For  some 
time  he  stayed  there,  looking  through  it  with  eyes  that 
saw  not,  and  only  the  crackling  logs  broke  the  stillness 
of  the  room.  Celia  came  in  to  turn  on  lights  and  take 
away  the  tea-tray,  but  Miss  Gibbie  waved  her  back. 
"I  want  the  firelight,"  she  said.  "When  I  need 
you  I'll  ring." 

A  few  minutes  more  she  watched  the  dancing 
flames  and,  watching  them,  her  face  grew  pale  and 
strangely  gentle.  Into  it  came  memories  of  the  days 
that  were  for  her  no  more.  Presently,  without  turn 
ing,  she  called: 

261 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

"John!" 

"Well." 

"  I  have  something  to  tell  you." 

Slowly  he  came  toward  her.  In  his  face  was  the 
look  she  had  seen  in  the  long  ago,  and  suddenly  hers 
was  buried  in  her  hands. 

He  stood  beside  her.  "  For  the  love  of  God  " — his 
voice  was  not  yet  steady — "don't  tell  me  what  you 
have  just  said — is  not  true." 

With  effort  her  hands  were  opened,  and  again  she 
leaned  back  in  her  chair,  but  she  did  not  look  up. 
"I  shall  tell  you  nothing  that  is  not  true,"  she  said, 
wearily.  "  Mary  loves  you,  but  she  is  as  stubborn  as 
you  were  blind.  It  has  pleased  you  to  put  hope  in 
Mrs.  Deford's  heart,  pleased  you  to  be  attentive  to 
her  little  make-believe  of  a  daughter.  Mary  has 
seen  and  heard  things  that  have  led  her  to  imagine 
you  were  in  love  with  Lily." 

John  sat  down  suddenly,  limp  with  incredulity. 
"  In  love  with  Lily — Lily  Deford  ?  Did  she  think  I 
was  a — " 

"She  did.  She  felt  about  you  very  much  as  really 
fine  women  would  feel  could  they  look  dov^n  from 
the  battlements  of  heaven  and  see  the  sort  of  things 
their  husbands  frequently  bring  home  to  take  their 
place.  You  have  been  seen  with  Lily  morning,  noon, 
and  night  when  she  wasn't  with  that  Pugh  boy,  who 
they  say  is  in  love  with  her,  and — " 

"  I  was  with  her  as  a  bluff.     Billy  Pugh  is  a  friend 
262 


THE    RELEASE 

of  mine,  and  a  good,  clean  fellow.  Having  troubles 
of  my  own,  I  felt  sorry  for  him,  and  was  standing  by; 
that  was  all.  He's  not  responsible  for  his  father's 
or  grandfather's  business.  They  were  in  it  before  he 
was  born,  and  it's  been  honestly  conducted  always, 
which,  unfortunately,  is  more  than  Lily's  father's  was. 
Lily's  father  was  a  rascal,  if  he  is  the  husband  of 
his  wife.  I'm  not  telling  you  what  you  don't  know; 
only  why  I  have  no  patience  with  this  rotten  pride 
of  Mrs.  Deford  I've  been  Lily's  dump.  Into  my 
ears  she's  poured  oceans  of  lamentations,  and  I've  let 
her  babble  on  because  it  gave  her  such  tearful  satis 
faction.  I  like  Billy,  and  stand  ready  to  help  any 
time  he  can  squeeze  out  courage  to  take  things  in  his 
own  hands." 

"And  you've  been  party  to  these  secret  meetings, 
have  you  ?  Been  thinking  so  much  of  Lily's  happi 
ness  you  forgot  other  people's.  You'd  help  them  run 
away,  I  suppose  ?" 

"I  would.  I  believe  in  all  respect  being  paid 
parents,  believe  their  consent  to  marriage  should 
always  be  asked,  their  approval  desired.  But  if  for 
any  fool  ancestral  reasons  consent  and  approval  are 
denied,  then  were  I  one  of  the  parties  I  should  invite 
the  parents  to  the  wedding,  but  let  them  understand 
that  whether  they  came  or  not  the  bells  would  ring. 
Were  I  Billy  Pugh  and  loved  his  little  Lily  I'd  marry 
her  to-morrow.  If  he  had  a  million  Mrs.  Deford 
would  forget  he  didn't  have  recorded  forefathers. 
18  263 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

The  trouble  with  Billy  is  he's  not  yet  rich.     I  told 
him  a  week  ago  I  was  ready  to  help." 

His  face  suddenly  changed  and  he  leaned  forward. 
"Do  you  mean  that  Mary  has  actually,  seriously 
imagined  I  was  interested  in  Lily  Deford  ?"  With  a 
hard  grip  his  hands  interclasped  as  he  looked  in  the 
dancing  flames,  and  when  he  next  spoke  his  voice 
was  again  unsteady.  "It  is  not  given  to  many  men 
to  love  as  I  love  Mary.  I  could  speak  of  this  to  no 
one  else,  for  words  are  not  for  love  like  mine.  But 
having  known  her,  having  in  my  life  but  one  thought, 
one  hope —  Why  didn't  you  tell  her  ?  Why  did  you 
let  her  think  I  was  such  a  fool  ?" 

"Why?"  Miss  Gibbie  sat  upright.  "I  thought 
you  were  one  myself.  Your  unremitting  attendance 
upon  Lily  was  carrying  my  suggestions  rather  far. 
In  matters  of  compromise  a  man  is  a  master.  He'd 
fall  in  love  with  anything  if  there  was  nothing  else  to 
fall  in  love  with.  Mary  has  been  something  of  a 
trial,  and  how  did  I  know  your  vanity  had  not  sur 
rendered  to  the  soothing  balm  of  adoration  ?  A  bit 
of  encouragement  and  Lily  would  have  swung  in 
cense.  She's  that  kind.  Many  a  man  maYries  a 
woman  because  of  her  admiration  for  him.  Many  a 
woman  marries  her  husband  because  no  other  man 
asked  her.  Only  occasionally  do  we  find  either  man 
or  woman  who  carries  through  life  one  image  alone  in 
the  heart.  When  you  came  down  here  you  went  first 
to  the  Defords." 


THE    RELEASE 

"And  why  ?  You  were  with  Mary,  and  for  im 
portant  matters  of  business  discussion.  I  would  have 
been  in  the  way.  I  walked  out  to  Tree  Hill  and  back, 
had  a  fight  with  myself  about  coming  in,  but  knew 
I  shouldn't.  I  came  down  purposely  on  the  twenty 
ninth,  the  anniversary  of  Mary's  return  to  Yorkburg, 
but—" 

"  Have  you  told  Mary  this  ?" 

"Told  her?  I've  told  her  nothing.  She  gives 
me  no  chance." 

"Gives?  A  man  who  doesn't  take  his  chance 
doesn't  deserve  it !  For  the  love  of  Heaven,  stop  being 
so  considerate  and  remember  a  woman  has  to  be 
mastered  every  now  and  then!" 

She  pulled  up  her  silk  skirt  and  held  the  tips  of  her 
velvet  slippers  to  the  fire. 

"  Put  on  a  fresh  log,  will  you  ?  Not  even  back 
logs  have  backbone  any  more.  When  I  was  young, 
men  had  red  blood,  and  color  and  flavor  went  with 
love-making.  Nowadays  people  are  afraid  of  emo 
tion,  and  courtship  is  a  milk-and-mush  affair.  What 
time  is  it  ?" 

John  took  out  his  watch.     "Quarter  to  six." 

"Time  to  go  home,  boy.  You  are  going  to  the 
Porters'  party,  I  suppose  ?  I  understand  the  little 
pot  and  big  pot  will  be  put  on  to-night.  They'll  live 
on  herrings  for  breakfast  and  cheese  for  supper  the 
rest  of  the  winter,  doubtless,  but  Josephine  Porter  is 
bound  to  blow  out  once  a  year.  Those  decorations 

265 


of  her  grandfather,  by  royalty  bestowed,  must  be 
kept  in  remembrance.  With  whom  are  you  going  ?" 

"I  asked  Mary,  and  am  going  with  Lily."  John 
smiled  grimly.  "I  got  an  invitation  for  Billy  and 
will  hand  her  over  as  soon  as  her  mother  is  out  of  the 
way.  I  can't  understand  why  Billy  doesn't  assert 
himself." 

"You  can't?  Queer!"  Miss  Gibbie  looked  in  the 
fire.  "  Mary  is  going  to  the  party  with  that  Fielding 
person,  I  believe.  To-morrow  night  she  spends  here. 
At  supper  I  have  some  things  to  talk  over  with  her; 
so  you  can't  come  to  supper.  You  might  come  in 
about  eight-thirty.  I'm  reading  a  French  novel  that 
Mary  objects  to.  She  read  it,  and  told  me  I  mustn't. 
Unless  some  one  talks  to  her  she'll  talk  to  me.  Would 
you  mind  dropping  in  so  I  can  get  at  the  book  ?" 

She  held  out  her  hand.  "Our  bargain,"  he  said, 
gravely.  "I  can  no  longer  hold  to  it.  Do  you  re 
lease  me  ?" 

"  Release  you  ?"  She  strangled  the  sudden  sob  in 
her  throat.  "  Love  has  released  you.  Don't  you  see 
— Mary  is  awake  ?" 


XXII 


T 


THE    NEWS 

HE  basket  in  Mrs.  McDougal's  hands  was 
dropped  as  if  its  every  egg  were  a  coal  of 
living  fire. 

"Kingdom  come  and  glory  be!  King 
dom  come — and — glory  be!"  She  clapped 
first  her  right  hand  on  her  left  and  then 
her  left  on  her  right,  and  stared  into  Mr.  Blick's  beam 
ing  black  eyes  as  if  through  them  rather  than  his 
mouth  the  information  just  received  was  to  be  con 
firmed.  Then  she  sat  down  on  a  soap-box  and 
rocked  in  unqualified  delight. 

"Kingdom  come  and  glory  be!  What  'd  you  tell 
me  a  thing  like  that  for  when  I  was  a-standin'  up  ?  I 
might  have  sat  down  in  that  bucket  of  lard  'stead  of 
on  a  keg  of  herrings — or  is  it  soap  ?"  She  looked  down 
with  sudden  anxiety  on  the  seat  she  had  taken  with 
out  thought.  "I  been  long  a-hopin*  somethin'  like 
this  would  happen,  but  I  wasn't  expectin'  of  it  to 
come  this  way.  Kingdom  come  and  glory  be!" 

Again  Mrs.  McDougal  rocked  backward  and  for 
ward,  her  arms  this  time  tightly  clasped  as  if  hugging 
a  cherished  possession.  Presently  she  threw  back 

267 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

her  head  and  laughed  until  the  tears  rolled  down  her 
cheeks. 

"Can't  help  it,  Mr.  Blick— can't  help  it!  To  think 
of  Pa  Pugh  and  Ma  Deford  in  the  course  of  nature 
being  grandparents  of  the  same  unsuspectin'  infant! 
One  and  the  same!  I've  never  heard  tell  that  the 
devil  was  much  on  laughin',  but  he's  a  good  grinner, 
and  he'll  be  just  enjoyin'  of  himself  to-day.  That  he 
will.  And  so  will  I.  Bein'  human,  I  chuckle  when 
I  gets  a  chance.  Kingdom  come  and  glory  be!" 

From  a  mysterious  arrangement  in  the  back  of 
her  skirt  Mrs.  McDougal  pulled  out  a  handkerchief, 
made  from  the  remains  of  an  old  sheet,  and  wiped 
her  eyes  with  it.  Then  she  got  up  and  leaned  upon 
the  counter  behind  which  Mr.  Blick  stood  waiting  for 
a  chance  to  speak;  his  round,  red  cheeks  redder  than 
usual,  and  his  beady  little  eyes  blinking  with  im 
portance. 

"Tell  me  about  it,"  she  said.  "I  must  have  been 
dead  and  buried  not  to  have  heard  no  speculations. 
Now  I  come  to  think  of  it,  I  did  hear  the  children  say 
they  seen  Mr.  Billy  Pugh  and  Miss  Lily  Deford 
sneakin'  along  in  the  shank  of  the  evenin',  all  alone 
by  themselves.  But  I  ain't  paid  no  attention  to  it. 
Mrs.  Deford  don't  think  people  like  the  Pughs  is 
fitten  to  spit  on,  but  she  owes  Mr.  Pugh  this  minute  a 
bill,  I  bet  you,  for  carriage  rides,  what's  bigger  than 
she  will  ever  pay.  Maybe  now  he  won't  press  her 
for  it,  bein*  they're  so  close  connected  from  hence- 

268 


THE   NEWS 

forth  and  forever  on."  And  once  more  Mrs.  Mc- 
Dougal's  hands  came  together  with  a  resounding 
smack. 

"But  tell  me  about  it."  She  leaned  farther  over 
the  counter.  "When  did  it  happen,  and  where  did 
they  go,  and  how  did  the  news  come  ?  Do  pray  shake 
your  tongue,  Mr.  Blick,  and  say  something.  You're 
as  bad  as  McDougal,  and  slower  'n  molasses  in  winter 
runnin'  down  a  hill.  What  did  the  old  lady  do  ? — 
Mrs.  Deford,  I  mean.  Is  she  come  to  yet  ?  Now, 
if  'twas  just  death,  I  could  go  by  and  leave  my  sym 
pathies.  Even  mill  folks  is  counted  then,  for  people 
like  to  say  poor  people  come  and  shed  tears.  It 
sounds  hopeful  for  heaven.  But  in  marriage  it's  dif 
ferent.  Congratulations  is  presumptuous,  lessen  they 
come  from  kinfolks  and  friends,  I  reckon,  and  Mrs. 
Deford  wouldn't  care  to  get  the  kind  I'd  like  to  give. 
Pride  is  a  sure  destroyer,  and  as  for  haughty  spirits ! — 
I  ain't  no  student  of  history,  but  I've  watched  York- 
burg  and  I've  seen  right  many  different  kinds  of  falls. 
I  don't  make  no  pretence  of  bein'  a  Miss  Mary  Gary 
kind  of  Christian.  I'm  just  a  church  kind,  who  goes 
regular  when  I  got  the  clothes,  and  talks  mean  about 
my  fellow  -  members  when  they  make  me  mad. 
'Tain't  no  set  of  people  which  talks  more  about  each 
other  than  church  members.  Seems  like  'tis  their 
chief  delight.  It's  a  heap  easier  and  more  soothin' 
to  go  to  church  and  feel  you  kind  of  got  a  permit  to 
say  what  you  oughtn't  than  to  try  to  live  like  Christ. 

269 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

But  if  you  ain't  a-goin'  to  tell  me  about  the  runaway 
I'll  just  leave  my  eggs  and  step  over  and  see  Miss 
Puss  Jenkins.  Miss  Puss  will  talk  to  anybody,  any 
where,  day  or  night.  All  you  got  to  do  is  to  ask  your 
first  question  and  take  your  seat.  If  'n  you  ain't  got 
nothin'  to  say — " 

"How  can  I  say  it  if  you  don't  let  a  word  get  in 
noway,  nohow  ?"  Mr.  Blick  was  huffy.  He  had 
much  to  say,  and  thus  far  had  been  forced  to  dumb 
ness.  "  Don't  anybody  know  anything  much.  They 
was  both  at  the  party  last  night,  and  Mrs.  Porter  says 
that's  what  comes  of  givin'  folks  like  the  Pughs  an 
inch.  Mr.  John  Maxwell  asked  her  for  an  invitation 
for  Billy,  and  she  gave  it,  being  it  was  Mr-  Maxwell 
who  asked,  and  the  result  was  he  run  off  and  mar 
ried—" 

"Miss  Lily!  That  he  did!  Bein'  plain,  he  took  an 
ell.  Bein'  proud,  she'll  give  him  hell! — Mrs.  Deford 
will.  Just  listen  at  that!  I'm  gettin'  to  be  a  regular 
rhymer.  Swell  people  certainly  do  have  advantage 
over  humble  ones.  I  tell  you  now,  when  I  get  to 
heaven  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  be  in  no  particular  hurry  to 
be  a  saint  with  a  halo.  I  want  first  to  be  privileged 
to  say  unto  others  what  they've  said  unto  us.  But  I 
don't  want  to  do  that  till  I  get  through  with  Eve. 
She's  the  first  person  I'm  goin'  to  make  a  bee-line  to. 
If  ever  a  woman  did  need  shakin',  it's  Eve.  As  for 
Adam — "  She  waved  her  hand.  "A  man  what 
hides  behind  a  woman's  petticoats,  or  whatever  she's 

270 


THE  NEWS 

wearin'  at  the  time,  and  says  '  she  made  me  do  it/  I 
got  my  opinion  of.  Bern*  a  Bible  character,  I  don't 
speak  of  him  in  public  often,  but  I  ain't  never  felt  no 
call  to  be  proud  of  him  for  a  first  father.  It  do  look, 
though,  as  if  all  men  since  Adam  has  been  makin'  of 
women  an  excuse.  She's  always  handy  to  blame 
things  on.  Reckon  somebody  will  be  sayin*  next 
Miss  Lily  made  Mr.  Billy  fall  in  love  with  her." 

"They  say  Mrs.  Deford  is  holding  of  Miss  Mary 
Gary  responsible  for  the  running  away."  Mr.  Blick 
began  to  weigh  out  certain  orders  which  had  been 
delayed  by  the  coming  of  Mrs.  McDougal.  "Miss 
Puss  Jenkins  was  in  here  this  morning  before  break 
fast  and  she  says  Mrs.  Deford  is  as  near  crazy  as  a 
lady  like  her  could  be.  It  seems  Mr.  Maxwell  took 
Miss  Lily  to  the  party  last  night,  and,  while  her  ma 
was  there,  too,  she  slipped  home  and  changed  her 
dress  and  got  her  valise.  Billy  Pugh  did  the  same 
thing.  Mr.  Maxwell  helped,  though  they  say  they 
didn't  tell  him  anything  about  it  until  last  night,  and 
he  had  to  wear  his  dress  clothes.  They  caught  the 
ten-ten  train  and  went  as  far  as  Vinita,  where  the 
preacher  was  waiting,  Billy  having  gotten  the  license 
from  the  county  clerk  during  the  day.  Mr.  Maxwell 
went  with  them  and  saw  them  married  and  caught 
the  twelve-twenty  train  back,  bringing  with  him  a 
note  for  Mrs.  Deford." 

"I  reckon  she's  been  swoonin*  ever  since,  ain't 
she  ?"  Mrs.  McDougal  took  up  a  handful  of  dried 

271 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

peaches  and  ran  them  through  her  fingers.  "She 
don't  look  like  a  swooner.  She'd  do  better  at  swear- 
in',  I  reckon,  and  yet  faintin'  is  always  considered  a 
high-class  sign." 

"Fainting!"  Mr.  Blick  patted  the  butter  in  the 
scale  and  took  a  pinch  off.  "Miss  Puss  Jenkins  says 
she  walked  the  floor  the  rest  of  the  night,  and  is 
walking  yet.  What  she  hasn't  said  about  Mr.  John 
Maxwell  ain't  in  human  speech,  but  this  morning  she 
began  on  Miss  Mary  Gary  and  is  holding  of  her  re 
sponsible  just  now.  The  hotter  she  got  with  Mr. 
Maxwell,  the  cooler  he  got,  Miss  Puss  says.  She  was 
with  her  when  he  came  back  with  the  note,  and  if  he 
was  the  kind  that  got  scared  he'd  be  shaking  yet. 
But  he  ain't  that  kind.  He  told  her  they'd  made  up 
their  minds  to  get  married  and  when  she  calmed 
down  she'd  be  much  obliged  to  him  for  going  with 
them  and  seeing  it  was  well  done.  She  was  too 
raging  for  him  to  say  much,  and  he  didn't  stay  long, 
so  I  was  told." 

Mrs.  McDougal  wiped  her  mouth.  "Well,  sir,  I 
felt  somethin'  in  the  air  when  I  waked  up  this 
mornin',  and  I  could  tell  by  my  bones  Yorkbufg  was 
shook  by  somethin'.  It  don't  take  much  to  make 
Yorkburg  shake,  and  it  ain't  had  nothin'  to  talk  about 
lately.  This  will  give  it  somethin'.  Miss  Lily  De- 
ford  and  Mr.  Billy  Pugh  married!  Whom  the  Lord 
loveth  He  chaseth!  He  sure  must  be  fond  of  Mrs. 
Deford!  Well,  all  I've  got  to  say  is  I  hope  they'll 

272 


THE  NEWS 

stay  away  until  the  thunder  and  lightning  is  over. 
A  caterpillar  has  about  as  much  chance  to  stand  up 
straight  as  Miss  Lily  to  meet  her  ma  in  argument. 
I  tell  you  now  I  wouldn't  like  that  longnet  thing  she 
puts  to  her  eye  to  stare  at  me  if  I  was  alone  with  her.'* 
She  took  up  her  basket.  "  Is  the  eggs  out  ?  I  don't 
know  what  I  come  for.  My  breath  and  brains  is 
clean  gone  this  mornin'.  I  wonder  if  Miss  Puss 
Jenkins  is  home  ?  I  think  I'll  just  step  up  the  street 
and  ask  her  if  she's  got  any  more  of  them  missionary 
aprons  to  sell."  She  winked  at  Mr.  Blick.  "Ain't 
folks  funny  ?  And  don't  we  have  to  make  believe  a 
lot  in  life  ?  Miss  Puss  has  told  so  many  people  she 
makes  aprons  for  her  missionary  money  that  she  be 
lieves  it  sure  enough.  I  make  out  I  believe  it,  too. 
It  helps  her  feelin's  and  pays  your  bills.  She  says 
she  has  so  much  time  and  so  little  to  do  that  she  feels 
she  ought  to  give  some  of  it  to  the  Lord,  so  she  makes 
aprons.  Well,  good-bye,  Mr.  Blick.  Much  obliged 
to  you  for  telling  what  you  know,  but  my  grand 
mother  always  told  me  to  go  to  females  when  wantin' 
details.  A  man  ain't  much  on  trimmin's.  Good 
bye  !"  And  with  a  wave  of  her  hand  she  was  gone. 

An  hour  later  John  Maxwell,  walking  up  and  down 
in  Mrs.  Deford's  parlor,  stood  for  a  moment  in  front 
of  the  mirror  between  the  windows  and  smiled  grim 
ly  at  the  face  reflected  in  it.  "Moral!"  he  said. 
"When  doing  unto  others  as  you'd  have  them  do  to 


'   MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

you,  be  sure  there's  no  mother-in-law  in  it.  I'm 
as  innocent  as  a  lamb,  and,  like  the  lamb,  am  getting 
it  in  the  neck,  all  right.  I  thought  to  do  a  kindness, 
and  am  called  a  criminal.  Poor  creature!  She  was 
as  crazy  last  night  as  any  March  hare  that  ever 
hopped.  When  she  was  through  with  me  I  was,  let 
me  see" — he  counted  on  his  fingers — "I  was  an  in 
stigator,  an  abetter,  a  thief,  a  rascal,  a  double-dealer 
and  hypocrite,  a  deceiver  and  destroyer,  a  traitor  and 
a  flirt,  a  socialist  and  anarchist.  I  was  everything 
but  a  man." 

He  whistled  softly  and  looked  toward  the  door. 
"I'd  give  fifteen  cents  if  I  could  smoke  during  the 
coming  interview.  It's  a  gentleman's  only  way  of 
relieving  his  feelings  when  a  lady  is  taking  his  head 
off.  I  held  in  last  night  after  stating  facts,  and  stood 
the  storm,  but  I  don't  promise  to  do  it  again.  I'm 
tired  of  this  nonsense.  If  there  are  high  horses  this 
morning,  the  tragedy  queen  must  mount  and  rant 
alone." 

A  noise  as  of  deep  breathing  made  him  turn.  In 
the  doorway  Mrs.  Deford  stood  tense,  rigid,  erect. 
A  trailing  black  wrapper  replaced  the  low-cut  shabby 
satin  gown  of  the  evening  before.  The  pallor  of  her 
face  was  heightened  by  a  liberal  use  of  powder  which 
ended  under  her  eyes,  where  pencil-marks  had  been 
added  to  their  usual  lines  to  give  emphasis  to  the 
shock.  And  as  she  slowly  advanced  she  measured 
each  step  as  though  unequal  to  another. 

274 


THE   NEWS 

With  an  inclination  of  the  head  John  waited  until 
she  had  taken  her  seat.  Her  tactics  had  changed. 
So  had  his.  For  a  brief  moment  he  stood  in  front  of 
her,  then  spoke,  and  his  voice  and  manner  made  her 
look  up  as  she  had  not  intended  to  look. 

"You  have  sent  for  me,"  he  said.  "I  will  be 
obliged  if  you  will  say  quickly  what  you  have  to  say." 
He  took  out  his  watch.  "I  have  an  engagement  in 
less  than  fifteen  minutes — " 

"You  have!"  She  half  rose.  His  words  were  as 
match  to  tinder.  "I  have  an  engagement  for  the 
rest  of  my  life  with  shame  and  disgrace  and  disap 
pointment.  You  have  helped  to  bring  them  on  me. 
and  you  tell  me  to  hurry  —  to  hurry!"  Her  right 
hand  flew  out  with  tragic  eloquence.  "That  I 
receive  you  in  my  house  is  beyond  my  understand- 
ing." 

"And  mine,  madam.  Shall  I  leave  ?"  He  smiled 
and  started  toward  the  door. 

"You  shall  not!"  With  frantic  energy  her  arm 
was  waved.  "  Have  you  no  heart  in  your  bosom  that 
you  can  so  treat  the  agony  in  my  breast!  My  child 
who  has  in  her  veins  the  best  blood  in  the  State  mar 
ried  to  a — to  a — what  ?" 

A  clean,  honest  man,  who  loves  her.  Your  daugh 
ter  is  very  fortunate,  Mrs.  Deford." 

"Fortunate!"  Her  voice  was  a  half-shriek.  "She 
is  disgraced  and  so  am  I.  Who  are  his  people?" 
She  shuddered.  "From  what  does  he  come  ?" 

275 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

"As  the  ceremony  is  over,  the  important  question 
just  now  is  where  is  he  going  ?  His  salary  in  the 
bank  here  is  exactly  eighty-three  dollars  thirty-three 
and  one-third  cents  per  month.  A  bank  in  which  I 
am  a  director  in  New  York  is  looking  for  a  certain 
kind  of  young  man.  I  wired  to-day  to  hold  the  place 
for  Billy.  I  think  it  can  be  managed.  The  salary 
is  three  thousand  a  year.  There  is  nothing  to  bring 
Lily  back  to  Yorkburg.  I  understood  last  night  you 
would  never  recognize  her  husband.  Pity!  New 
York  is  rather  a  nice  place  to  visit.  Mother  can  find 
them  a  suitable  apartment,  and  Billy  is  not  apt  to 
worry  you  about  coming  on.  I  wrote  mother  last 
night  to  make  it  pleasant  for  them  and  turn  over  my 
man  and  the  machine  until  I  get  back."  He  again 
took  out  his  watch.  "  Is  there  anything  else  ?  My 
time  is  up." 

"Mine  isn't,  and  you  are  not  to  go!"  Her  arm 
waved  up  and  down.  "Do  you  think  lending  your 
automobile  a  few  days  will  make  up  for  our  walking 
the  rest  of  our  lives  ?  Do  you  think  I  expected  Lily 
and  myself  to  walk  through  life?  I  tell  you  no!  I 
expected  to  ride!  And  what  is  three  thousand  a 
year  when  there  might  have  been  thirty!  But  the 
suffering  of  a  mother's  heart  is  not  to  be  understood 
by  a  selfish  man.  You  have  been  a  traitor!  In  the 
darkness  of  the  night  you  helped  my  daughter  marry 
a  man  whose  father  has  hitched  up  horses  for  me  to 
ride  behind.  A  man  by  the  name  of  P-u-g-h!"  She 

276 


THE    NEWS 

blew  out  the  word  by  letters,  her  lips  trembling  on 
each.     Again  she  repeated  it — "P-u-g-h!" 

He  looked  at  the  writhing,  twisting  woman  stead 
ily,  and  out  of  his  eyes  went  all  pity  and  patience. 
"The  name  of  Pugh  is  a  very  honest  one,"  he  said, 
presently.  "And  a  man  who  takes  good  care  of 
horses  is  worthier  than  he  who  takes  no  care  of  his 
family.  If  there  is  nothing  else,  I  must  bid  you  good- 
morning." 

"There  is  something  else."  She  rose  from  the 
sofa  on  which  she  had  been  sitting  and,  baffled,  threw 
prudence  to  the  wind.  She  could  bring  from  him 
neither  regret  nor  sympathy,  neither  explanation  nor 
apology.  Frankly  the  night  before  he  had  told  his 
part.  Clearly  this  morning  he  had  not  changed  his 
mind.  No.  She  was  not  through. 

"And  why,  may  I  ask,  was  this  interest  in  my 
daughter's  affairs  taken  so  suddenly  ?  I  understand 
you  alone  were  not  interested,  but  by  another  be 
guiled  into  this  traitorous  help.  To  get  Lily  out  of 
the  way  fits  well  into  the  scheming  plans  of  your 
helper.  As  a  woman,  I  have  been  ashamed  to  see 
how  you  have  been  pursued  by  one  who  had  no 
mother  to  direct  her.  She  has  thrown  herself  at  your 
head,  at  your  feet,  has  given  you  no  chance  to  escape, 
and  now  I  suppose  is  triumphant — " 

John  turned.     "Of  whom  are  you  speaking?" 

"Of  whom?  You  know  very  well  of  whom. 
Since  childhood  Mary  Gary  has — " 

277 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

"Don't  you  dare!"  His  hand  went  out  as  if  to 
hold  back  further  words.  "Don't  you  dare  call  her 
name  in  this  room."  He  went  over  to  a  window  and 
opened  it,  letting  the  cold  air  in  with  a  rush.  "Miss 
Gary  is  the  one  woman  in  the  world  I  want  for  my 
wife.  She  is  the  only  woman  I've  ever  given  a 
thought  to,  and  if  she  does  not  marry  me  I  do  not 
marry.  A  dozen  times  I  have  asked  her.  A  dozen 
times  she  has  refused.  She  does  not  enter  into  this 
discussion.  Whatever  else  you  forget,  you  are  to  re 
member  that.  Am  I  understood  in  regard  to  Miss 
Gary  ?" 

Mrs.  Deford's  shoulders  shrugged,  then  her  eyes 
grew  glassy.  Suddenly  she  fell  back  upon  the  sofa 
as  if  faint,  then  suddenly  again  her  mind  was  changed 
and  her  finger  pointed  toward  the  door. 

"Go!"  she  said.  "I  consider  you  have  insulted 
me.  Go!" 


XXIII 


THE   GUILD    AGAIN 


HE  Needlework  Guild  was  again  meeting 
with  Mrs.  Tate.  Since  its  adjournment  in 
May  no  meetings  had  been  called  by  Mrs. 
Pryor,  its  president,  and  October  had 
passed  with  nothing  done. 

Six  months  of  retirement  from  her  usual 
round  of  activities  had  seemed  to  Mrs.  Pryor  the 
proper  allotment  of  time  for  a  widow  to  absent  herself 
from  all  places  of  a  semi-public  nature;  and  in  ad 
herence  to  her  views  she  was  waiting  for  six  months  to 
pass.  Rumors  of  restlessness  reaching  her,  however, 
she  had  called  a  meeting  for  November,  which  meet 
ing,  held  on  the  morning  following  the  Porters'  party, 
had  an  attendance  that  would  have  been  gratifying 
had  its  cause  not  been  well  understood, 

Every  chair  was  taken  when  Miss  Honoria 
Brockenborough,  who  rarely  honored  the  guild  by 
her  presence,  came  in,  and  Mrs.  Tate,  jumping  up, 
offered  her  seat,  then  stepped  into  the  hall  and  called 
the  maid. 

"Run  over  to  Mrs.  Corbin's  and  get  me  three  or 
19  279 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

four  of  her  dining-room  chairs,"  she  said,  in  a  half- 
whisper,  easily  heard  through  the  open  door.  "  Both 
of  those  you  brought  out  of  my  room  are  broken,  and 
you'll  have  to  take  them  out  as  soon  as  you  come 
back.  Tell  her  girl  to  help  you,  and  do,  pray,  hurry! 
Don't  stand  looking  at  me  like  that,  with  your  lip 
hanging  down  like  a  split  gizzard.  Go  on!  Bring 
six,  and  for  goodness'  sake  don't  stop  and  talk!  Soon 
as  you  come  in  put  some  more  coal  on  the  fire.  Mittie 
Muncaster  looks  blue  already." 

Incessant  chatter  had  preceded  the  calling  of  the 
meeting  to  order,  and  only  by  restraint  were  the 
opening  exercises  endured,  reports  heard,  and  sug 
gestions  for  the  winter's  work  discussed.  These  over, 
with  a  sigh  of  expectancy  or  anxiety,  according  to 
temperament,  the  ladies  settled  down  to  their  sewing, 
and  chairs  were  drawn  closer  to  the  fire. 

"I  certainly  am  glad  it  isn't  raining  or  hailing  or 
snowing  this  morning,"  began  Mrs.  Tate,  shaking  out 
the  gown  of  unbleached  cotton  on  which  she  had  been 
supposedly  sewing  during  the  past  season.  ''What  is 
the  matter  with  this  thing,  anyhow  ?  I  believe  I've 
gone  and  put  a  sleeve  in  the  neck.  Everybody  knows 
I  never  could  sew.  Mr.  Tate  knew  it  when  I  mar 
ried  him,  for  I  told  him  I'd  rather  handle  a  pitchfork 
than  a  needle.  I  might  hold  a  pitchfork,  but  a  needle 
I  can't.  What 'd  I  tell  you!  Mine's  gone  already!" 

Triumphantly  she  looked  at  Mrs.  Webb,  who  had 
taken  the  twisted  garment  from  her  hands  and  was 

280 


THE   GUILD   AGAIN 

ripping  the  sleeve  from  the  neck.  According  to  Mrs. 
Webb's  ideas,  it  had  been  basted  in.  According  to 
Mrs.  Tate's,  it  had  been  sewed,  but  as  there  was  no 
argument,  and  the  needle  was  indeed  gone,  Mrs. 
Tate  got  up  and  went  over  to  the  fire.  Punching  it, 
she  made  the  coals  crackle  and  blaze  cheerily,  and, 
pulling  up  her  skirt,  she  leaned  against  the  mantel 
and  looked  happily  around  the  well-filled  room. 

"You  certainly  ought  to  feel  complimented,  Mrs. 
Pryor,"  she  said,  nodding  toward  that  lady's  back. 
"  I  don't  believe  we've  had  a  meeting  like  this  since 
you've  been  president.  I  thought  everybody  would 
be  so  tired  after  the  party  we  wouldn't  have  anybody 
at  all,  but  everything  in  Yorkburg  is  wide-awake  this 
morning.  There'll  be  a  lot  of  visits  paid  to-day.  I 
wonder  if  Miss  Gibbie  Gault  will  be  here  ?" 

"Of  course  she  won't!  Miss  Gibbie  never  comes 
unless  she  has  something  to  say."  Mrs.  Pryor's  long 
black  veil  was  thrown  back  over  her  bonnet,  and, 
standing  by  the  table  on  which  were  yards  of  cottons 
to  be  cut  into  gowns,  she  took  up  her  scissors  and  ran 
her  fingers  carefully  down  their  edge.  "I  understand 
Laura  Deford  has  sent  for  Miss  Gibbie.  She  has 
something  to  say  to  her  this  morning." 

"Then  she'll  have  to  go  to  her  and  say  it."  Mrs. 
Webb  looked  up,  and  for  a  moment  her  fingers 
stopped  their  rapid  sewing.  "You  don't  suppose 
Miss  Gibbie  is  going  to  Mrs.  Deford's  just  because 
Mrs.  Deford  sent  for  her,  do  you  ?  If  Laura  knows 

281 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

what's  good  for  her,  and  what  she's  doing,  she  will 
let  Miss  Gibbie  alone." 

"But  that's  what  she  don't  know."  Miss  Lizzie 
Bettie  Pryor's  voice  was  as  blunt  as  usual.  "If  ever 
there,  was  a  wild  woman  it's  Laura  Deford  this 
minute.  I've  been  with  her  all  the  morning,  and  she 
don't  know  salt  from  seaweed.  She  sent  for  John 
Maxwell  and  says  he  told  her  not  to  dare  call  Mary 
Gary's  name  in  his  presence,  and  that  he  never  ex 
pects  to  marry  any  woman  on  earth." 

"I  don't  believe  it!"  Mrs.  Moon  sat  upright. 
"Mrs.  Deford  must  be  insane." 

"She  is."  Miss  Lizzie  Bettie  bit  off  a  strand  of 
cotton.  "  She'll  cool  down  after  a  while,  but  just  at 
present  she  don't  know  what  she's  talking  about.  If 
ever  a  woman  wanted  a  man  for  a  son-in-law  she 
wanted  John  Maxwell.  The  flesh-pots  of  his  Egypt 
are  after  her  heart.  I  feel  sorry  for  her,  but  she  had 
no  business  behaving  as  she's  done  for  months  past." 

"I  don't  wonder  John  helped  the  runaways." 
Mrs.  Corbin  threaded  her  needle  at  arm's-length. 
"Safety  lay  in  flight  of  some  sort,  and  as  he  will  never 
fly  as  long  as  Mary  Gary  is  here,  the  sensible  thing 
was  to  help  shoo  Lily  off.  Mrs.  Deford  will  have  to 
let  him  alone  now.  Poor  thing!  It  does  seem 
strange  how  the  cup  that's  bitterest  is  the  one  we  al 
ways  have  to  drink.  I  don't  suppose  any  of  us 
would  scramble  or  push  to  get  in  the  Pugh  family,  but 
Mr.  Corbin  says  young  Pugh  is  one  of  the  finest 

282 


THE   GUILD   AGAIN 

young  men  in  town,  and  he  thinks  Lily  is  lucky  to  get 
him.  Of  course,  Mr.  Corbin's  opinion  is  just  a  man's, 
but  Lily's  best  friend  couldn't  think  she  had  any 
more  sense  than  she  needed,  and  she's  the  kind  that 
fades  before  thirty.  She's  got  a  pretty  complexion 
and  lovely  hair,  but  her  nose —  A  girl  with  a  nose 
like  Lily's  ought  to  be  thankful  to  marry  anybody, 
Mr.  Corbin  says." 

"That's  what  I  say!"  Mrs.  Tate's  right  foot  was 
held  out  to  the  blazing  coals,  and  her  hands  held 
tightly  the  rumpled  skirt.  "I  tell  you  we  have  to 
follow  the  fashion,  and  it's  the  fashion  now  to  forget 
what  we  used  to  remember.  The  Pughs  certainly 
are  plain,  and  that  oldest  girl,  the  fat,  married  one, 
must  be  hard  to  swallow,  but  they  say  that  young  one, 
Kitty  I  believe  is  her  name,  is  going  to  marry  Jim 
McFarlane.  The  McFarlanes  are  as  good  as  the 
Defords  any  day,  if  Jim  is  as  lazy  and  good-for- 
nothing  as  he's  good-looking.  Jim  is  my  cousin,  and 
I  ought  to  know." 

"  So  you  will  be  connected  with  the  Pughs  also  ?" 
Mrs.  Pryor  turned,  scissors  in  hand,  and  looked  sig 
nificantly  at  Mrs.  Tate.  "The  Pughs  will  believe 
themselves  in  society  after  a  while;  will  try,  no  doubt, 
to  find  a  family  tree." 

"It  could  be  a  horse-chestnut."  Mrs.  Tate  nod 
ded  at  Mrs.  Pryor.  "I  don't  mind  their  being  con 
nected  with  me.  I  always  did  say  a  person  wasn't 
responsible  for  their  kin,  and  pride  and  shame  in 

283 


MISS   GIBBIE  GAULT 

them  don't  speak  much  for  yourself.  I'm  glad 
Aylette  didn't  marry  Billy  Pugh,  but  if  she  had  I 
wouldn't  be  ranting  around  like  Laura  Deford  is  do 
ing  this  minute.  I  guess  I'd  have  given  her  a  piece 
of  my  mind,  and  gone  out  and  gotten  her  some  wed 
ding  clothes.  A  girl  certainly  ought  to  have  pretty 
things  when  she  gets  married,  even  if  you  don't  think 
much  of  her  taste  in  men.  When  Aylette  was  mar 
ried  I  ran  more  ribbon  in  her  clothes — pink  and  blue 
and  lavender.  I  told  her  she  might  be  a  widow,  and 
it  was  well  to  be  ready.  She  didn't  want  lavender, 
but  I  love  it,  and  I  would  put  some  in.  I  don't  sup 
pose  a  girl  ever  does  marry  just  the  kind  of  man  her 
mother  would  like  her  to.  I  wouldn't  want  Aylette 
to  know  it,  but  I  never  have  understood  what  she 
saw  in  Mr.  Penhurst  to  fall  in  love  with.  He's  from 
Worcester,  Massachusetts."  Mrs.  Tate's  hand  went 
up  and  her  eyes  rolled  ceilingward.  "What  he 
thinks  of  this  part  of  the  world  wouldn't  do  to  be 
written  out!" 

"And  what  we  think  of  his  wouldn't,  either!" 
Miss  Lizzie  Bettie  Pryor's  head  nodded  so  emphat 
ically  at  Mrs.  Tate  that  the  latter  sat  down.  *  "All  I 
ask  of  people  from  his  section  of  the  world  is  to  stay 
away  from  ours.  I  wish  I  could  make  a  law  forbid 
ding  people  north  of  Mason  and  Dixon's  line  to  come 
to  Yorkburg.  We  don't  want  to  know  anything 
about  them — what  they  think  or  what  they  say  or 
what  they  do.  If  I  could  I'd  put  a  glass  top  on 

284 


THE  GUILD   AGAIN 

Yorkburg  and  keep  it  always  as  the  one  spot  in  Vir 
ginia  that  remembers  the  past  and  is  true  to  it." 

"I'm  mighty  glad  you  can't  make  laws  or  put 
on  glass  tops."  Mrs.  Moon  smiled  good-naturedly. 
"If  it  wasn't  for  the  people  north  of  Mason  and 
Dixon's  line  the  woolen-mills  would  have  to  close 
and  there'd  be  no  butter  for  my  bread.  A  good  many 
other  things  would  be  affected  also,  and  Yorkburg 
would  waste  away  were  it  not  for  your  unloved  friends 
beyond  the  line.  Certainly  the  inn  would  have  to 
close,  and  the  Colonial  Arms  and — " 

"Better  waste  away  and  die  than  decay  in  ideals 
and  traditions  and  heritage!"  Miss  Lizzie  Bettie 
looked  around  the  room.  "Here  we  are  educating 
everything  in  Yorkburg.  Next  year  two  new  hand 
some  schools  will  be  opened  and  filled  with  the  riff 
raff  of  the  town.  What  are  we  going  to  do  with  them 
after  they're  educated  ?  Our  streets  have  been  torn 
up  for  months — " 

"  But  they'll  be  lovely  when  finished."  Mrs.  Cor- 
bin  laid  down  her  work.  "You  know  yourself,  Liz 
zie  Bettie,  how  Mary  Cary  fought  for  brick  pave 
ments  instead  of  asphalt,  because  she  said  they  suited 
Yorkburg  better.  And  you  know  how  she's  worked 
to  save  all  the  old  things  and  have  the  new  ones  to 
suit.  In  a  few  years  this  will  be  the  prettiest  town 
in  the  country.  That  Mr.  Black  who  bought  those 
ugly  old  shacks  and  stores,  and  pulled  them  down, 
making  pretty  open  spaces  of  their  lots,  certainly  has 

285 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

been  a  good  friend  to  Yorkburg.  I  don't  care  what 
line  he  came  over.  I'm  glad  he  came,  and  if  he  would 
only  stay  here  long  enough  Mr.  Corbin  and  I  surely 
would  ask  him  to  tea." 

"Who  is  this  Mr.  Black?"  Mrs.  Pryor  looked  in 
first  one  direction  and  then  another."  I  would  like 
to  know  something  of  this  mysterious  individual  who 
comes  here,  buys  property,  pulls  down  our  oldest 
houses — 

"Oldest  eyesores."  Mrs.  Webb  borrowed  Mrs. 
Moon's  scissors.  "He  certainly  has  put  up  some 
pretty  old-fashioned-looking  houses  in  their  place. 
I  was  crazy  for  one,  but  Mr.  Webb  was  so  slow  they 
were  all  taken  before  he  spoke."  She  sighed.  "A 
woman  might  as  well  try  to  move  a  mountain  as  to 
hurry  a  man  when  he  don't  want  to  do  a  thing.  I'Ve 
spoken  for  the  next  one,  if  there  are  any  next." 

"Who  is  this  Mr.  Black?"  Again  Mrs.  Pryor 
asked  the  question. 

"Nobody  knows  who  he  is,  but  I  believe  he  is  John 
Maxwell." 

Miss  Puss  Jenkins,  who  had  come  in  late,  spoke 
from  her  seat  near  the  door,  and  instinctively  all 
turned  toward  her. 

"John  Maxwell!"  Half  a  dozen  voices  repeated 
the  name,  but  Miss  Lizzie  Bettie  Pryor  was  the  first 
to  protest. 

"Nonsense!"  she  said.  "How  can  one  man  be 
another  ?  I've  seen  Mr.  Black  several  times.  He's 

286 


THE   GUILD   AGAIN 

a  sharp,  shrewd,  business-looking  man  who  seems  to 
know  Mary  Gary  very  well.  Whenever  he  is  in  town 
he  spends  a  good  deal  of  time  with  her,  I  hear.  He 
may  be  acting  for  somebody  else,  but  it  is  not  John 
Maxwell.  The  latter  is  not  the  kind  of  man  to  let 
anybody  else  attend  to  his  business." 

"Well,  anyhow,  I  heard  somebody  say  it  was  John 
Maxwell  who  bought  those  bonds  and  didn't  want 
anybody  to  know  it."  Miss  Puss  was  not  to  be 
crushed  by  Lizzie  Bettie  Pryor.  "Of  course,  it's  all 
guesswork,  but  a  lot  of  money  has  been  spent  in  this 
place  in  the  last  year.  Not  only  on  streets  and 
schools  and  cleaning  up  and  prizes  for  the  prettiest 
back-yards  and  trees  and  things  for  Milltown,  but  on 
people.  A  dozen  people  that  I  know  of  were  sent  off 
on  trips  during  the  summer.  People  who  couldn't 
afford  to  go.  And  it  was  always  the  same  thing 
Mary  Gary  would  tell.  She'd  just  laugh  and  say 
Yorkburg's  friend  had  asked  her  to  do  it.  York- 
burg's  friend  never  sent  me  anywhere.  Ev 
erybody  knows  John  Maxwell  is  Mary  Gary's 
friend." 

"So  is  Miss  Gibbie  Gault."  Mrs.  Tate,  who  was 
making  tatting  on  her  fingers  with  Mrs.  Burnham's 
cotton,  looked  up.  "Miss  Gibbie  is  certainly  her 
friend,  but  I  don't  suppose  anybody  would  waste 
time  thinking  she  was  doing  all  these  things." 

"I  imagine  not!"  Mrs.  Pryor's  voice  was  decisive. 
Then  her  face  changed,  and  with  an  expression  suit- 

287 


MISS    G1BBIE   GAULT 

able  to  recent  affliction  she  folded  her  hands  and 
shook  her  head. 

"It  is,  indeed,  distressing/'  she  began,  "to  see  a 
young  girl  so  defy  public  opinion  as  Mary  Gary  does. 
For  over  a  year  she  has  been  back  in  Yorkburg,  and 
save  for  the  weeks  she  was  away  on  a  summer  holiday 
there  has  been  no  one  of  them  in  which  she  has  not 
been  discussed  whenever  two  or  three  have  met  to 
gether." 

"She  certainly  has!"  Mrs.  Tate's  assent  was 
eager,  if  undesired.  "Her  coming  back  has  been 
like  the  raising  of  the  dead.  If  there  ever  was  a  dull 
place,  it  was  this  one  before  she  came.  Somehow 
since  she  got  here  things  look  like  they've  taken  a 
tonic,  and  so  do  we.  Mary  always  did  have  a  way  of 
making  you  sit  up  and  take  notice  and  enjoying 
yourself." 

Mrs.  Pryor  touched  the  bell.  "As  I  was  saying, 
Mary  Gary  is  one  of  the  people — I  say  it  in  all  chari 
tableness — who  will  always  be  talked  about,  just  as — 
just  as— 

"The  sun  would  be  talked  about  if  it  came  out  at 
night."  Mrs.  Tate  felt  no  grudge  and  helped  out 
willingly. 

"  Just  as  anybody  would  be  talked  about  who  is  so 
very — very  alive.  I  am  sure  she  means  well,  but  it  is 
the  Christian  duty  of  some  one  to  point  out  to  her 
the  mistakes  she  is  making.  She  is  spending  money 
freely.  Where  does  it  come  from  ?"  Mrs.  Pryor  for- 

288 


THE   GUILD    AGAIN 

got  her  weeds,  and  her  voice  was  the  voice  of  the  May 
meeting.  "Where  does  that  mysterious  money  come 
from  ?  Everybody  knows  Gibbie  Gault  has  money, 
but  has  anybody  ever  known  her  to  give  a  dollar  of  it 
away  ?  Go  to  her  when  you  will  and  ask  her  to  sub 
scribe  to  this  or  contribute  to  that  and  she  waves  you 
out.  Who  has  ever  seen  her  name  on  any  list  of 
givers  to  anything.  The  money  her  father  left  her  has 
increased  enormously  in  value  I've  been  told.  She's 
a  good  business  woman.  Nobody  denies  that,  but 
what  will  she  present  to  her  Maker  when  she  stands 
before  Him  at  the  bar  of  judgment.  And  what  are 
the  words  which  she  will  hear  ?" 

"Couldn't  any  of  us  guess  that."  Miss  Mittie 
Muncaster  went  up  to  the  grate  and  put  on  a  large 
lump  of  coal.  "I  reckon  a  good  many  people  would 
like  to  know  what  other  people  are  going  to  have  said 
to  them  at  the  bar  of  judgment.  The  thought  of  hell 
is  a  great  comfort  to  some  people.  I  certainly  am 
glad  the  Lord's  got  to  judge  me,  and  not  women. 
But,  speaking  of  Mary  Gary,  I  hear  she's  awfully 
worried  about  Lily's  running  away.  She  thinks  it 
was  so  disrespectful  to  her  mother  not  to  tell  her  first 
and  run  afterward,  if  her  mother  still  held  out.  Mary 
don't  know  Mrs.  Deford.  Lily  wanted  to  take  her 
head  with  her  when  she  ran.  There  are  mothers  and 
mothers,  and  Mrs.  Deford  isn't  the  kind  Mary  keeps 
in  her  heart.  I  bet  she  gives  it  to  John  when  she  sees 
him." 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

"Since  this  Mr.  Fielding  has  been  here,  no  one  sees 
John  with  Mary  any  more."  Mrs.  Corbin  put  her 
needle  between  her  lips.  "Who  is  this  Mr.  Fielding  ? 
I  don't  like  his  looks  a  bit.  He's  never  been  here 
before." 

Miss  Honoria  Brockenborough  got  up  to  go.  Her 
lorgnette,  the  only  one  in  town  except  Mrs.  Deford's, 
was  held  to  her  eyes,  and  for  a  moment  she  looked  at 
Mrs.  Corbin. 

"His  presence  here  is  a  disgrace  to  Yorkburg." 
Her  tone  was  icy.  "I  have  heard  very  strange  things 
of  late.  It  is  his  money,  I  understand,  which  Mary 
Gary  has  been  spending.  He  has  as  much  as  ad 
mitted  it  himself." 


XXIV 


THE    PIECE    OF   PAPER 

TANDING  in  front  of  the  library  fire,  Miss 
Gibbie  held  her  hands  out  to  its  blaze. 
"This  room  isn't  warm  enough.  Jackson 
isn't  half  attending  to  the  furnace.  I  wish 

O 

you'd  ring  for  him  to  put  on  more  coal. 
Jackson  is  losing  his  mind  of  late.  If  he 
wasn't  a  church  member  I'd  think  he  was  seeking, 
he's  been  so  doleful  the  last  few  days.  They  are  half- 
cracked,  every  one  of  them,  when  their  meetings 
begin." 

"Jackson  has  undigested  dyspepsia.  He  told  me 
so  himself  just  before  supper."  Mary  Gary  opened 
the  coal-bin,  and  with  the  tongs  lifted  a  large  lump  of 
coal  and  put  it  in  the  grate.  "It  must  be  a  dreadful 
thing  to  have,  judging  by  his  expression."  She 
laughed  and  wiped  her  hands  on  her  handkerchief. 
"  I  suggested  peppermint  and  hot  water,  but  he  looked 
so  reproachfully  at  me  that  I  changed  it  to  Compound 
Elixir  of  Hexagonal  Serafoam.  He's  anxious  to  try 
that." 

"What  is  it?" 

291 


MISS   GIBBIE    GAULT 

"  I  don't  know."  She  shook  her  head.  "  But  the 
sound  pleased  him,  so  I'm  going  to  give  him  some 
calomel  to-morrow  under  the  new  name.  It's  non 
sense  to  say  there's  nothing  in  a  name.  There's 
money  in  it,  cure  in  it,  and  comfort  of  mind.  Why 
don't  you  sit  down  ?" 

Miss  Gibbie  walked  over  to  the  library-table,  took 
up  a  magazine,  opened  it,  put  it  down  and  took  up 
another.  Mary,  following  her  with  her  eyes,  seeing 
the  restlessness  which  possessed  her  and  the  restraint 
she  was  obviously  trying  to  exercise,  was  puzzled,  and 
again  she  asked:  "Why  don't  you  sit  down?" 

"I  think  it's  because  I  prefer  to  stand.  But  it  may 
be  because  I've  been  sitting  for  hours  hearing  people 
tell  the  same  thing  over  in  a  different  way.  Just  six 
teen  people  have  been  here  to-day  and  every  single 
one  of  them  told  me  every  single  thing  about  the 
party;  how  pretty  Polly  Porter  looked,  and  what  a 
sight  Georganna  Brickhouse  made  of  herself  in  a 
light-blue  dress,  suitable  for  sixteen,  and  how  good 
the  supper  was,  all  except  the  salad.  That  was  a  new- 
fashioned  mess  Mrs.  Deford  made  after  a  recipe 
brought  from  Maine.  Mittie  Muncaster'^  nose  is 
still  up.  Things  have  come  to  a  pretty  pass  when 
Maine  recipes  are  used  in  Virginia,  Mittie  says. 
You'd  think  Yorkburg  had  been  insulted.  And 
every  single  one  of  the  sixteen  said  their  say  over 
the  runaway.  Mourned,  groaned,  or  were  glad,  ac 
cording  to  their  feelings.  Some  weren't  at  all  sur- 

292 


THE   PIECE   OF    PAPER 

prised.  Been  expecting  it.  That  was  Lizzie  Bettie 
Pryor  and  Puss  Jenkins.  Some  people  always  know 
a  thing  is  going  to  happen  after  it  happens.  And 
some  won't  believe  it  though  in  front  of  their  face. 
You,  too,  have  been  airing  your  views  on  runaway 
marriages  ever  since  you  came  in.  For  a  person  who 
doesn't  intend  to  get  married  you  have  very  decided 
views  concerning  matrimony." 

"That's  why  I  never  expect  to  get  married.  If  I 
didn't  have  views,  I  might.  I've  never  said  I  didn't 
approve  of  people  marrying.  I  do.  Though  why 
they  want  to,  I  don't  see.  Life  has  enough  disap 
pointments  without  finding  that  marriage  is  an 
other.  It  certainly  can't  be  a  cheerful  realization, 
that  of  discovering  your  husband  is  a  very  different 
man  from  what  you  thought  him." 

"Nor  a  very  cheerful  discovery  for  a  man  when  he 
realizes  the  woman  he  loves  is  really  a  child!  My 
dear  Mary  Gary,  don't  imagine  the  discoveries  of 
character  and  temperament,  of  idiosyncrasies  and 
peculiarities,  are  all  on  the  woman's  side.  A  man 
has  to  stand  much.  There  are  times  when  a  woman 
may  be  an  angel,  but  others  when  she  behaves  as  if 
her  ancestry  was  in  a  different  direction.  No  wizard 
works  such  enigmatical  changes  as  that  master  of 
human  destinies  called  Love.  Lives  are  glorified  or 
ruined  by  it,  and  no  man  or  woman  experiences  it 
who  is  not  more  or  less,  in  the  process  of  experiencing, 
some  sort  of  a  fool.  They  play  with  happiness  as 

293 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

though  it  were  a  toy,  and  learn  too  late  they've  thrown 
away  the  only  thing  worth  having  in  life.  By-the- 
way,  speaking  of  happiness,  has  this  Mr.  Horatio 
Fielding  gone  yet  ?" 

Mary  Gary  drew  the  big  wing  chair  closer  to  the 
fire  and  sat  upon  its  arm,  one  slippered  foot  on  the 
fender.  "No.  He  has  not  gone  yet.  He  goes  to 
morrow,  I  believe." 

"He  does!"  Miss  Gibbie  looked  at  the  face  op 
posite,  and  over  her  own  again  swept  indecision.  Dur 
ing  supper  she  had  been  too  incensed  to  trust  herself 
to  tell  what  that  afternoon  had  reached  her  ears,  and 
yet  it  must  be  told.  Were  it  possible  to  spare  her 
she  would  spare.  It  was  not  possible.  Kind  friends 
were  too  ready  to  spread  cruel  things.  It  was  best 
she  should  hear  from  her  what  must  be  heard. 

"This  Mr.  Fielding,"  she  began,  taking  a  seat  on 
the  far  end  of  the  big  old-fashioned  sofa,  well  out  of 
the  firelight.  "  Is  he  a  man  of  honor  ?  Can  you  de 
pend  upon  statements  he  makes  ?" 

"A  man  of  honor?"  Miss  Gibbie  was  looked  at 
questioningly.  "  I  don't  know  what  you  mean.  He's 
abominably  blatant  and  nouveau,  and  a  terrible  trial 
to  talk  to.  But  dishonorable —  There's  been  no  oc 
casion  for  him  to  act  dishonorably.  His  statements 
are  mostly  about  his  father's  wealth  and  the  kind  of 
machine  he  likes  best  and  his  tailor  in  Piccadilly  and 
cafes  in  Paris.  I  don't  know  how  correct  they  are. 
I  didn't  half  hear  them.  I  could  think  of  other  things 

294 


THE   PIECE   OF   PAPER 

when  he  was  talking,  and  generally  brought  them  in 
for  that  purpose." 

"And  yet  for  some  days  past  you  have  been  con 
stantly  with  this  abominably  blatant  and  terribly  try 
ing  person.  You  have  driven  home  with  him  at 
eight  o'clock  at  night." 

"I  have.  Why  shouldn't  I?  I  wouldn't  have 
driven  with  him  at  four  if  I  shouldn't  have  driven 
with  him  at  eight.  I  did  that  the  night  I  was  caught 
by  the  storm  at  Miss  Matoaca  Brockenborough's. 
She  was  sick,  and  Mr.  Fielding  talked  with  Miss 
Honoria  in  the  parlor  while  I  was  up-stairs  with  Miss 
Matoaca.  I  would  have  come  here,  but  I  had  some 
important  letters  to  write  that  night  and  didn't  let 
Mr.  Fielding  come  in.  He  drove  back  and  left  the 
horse  at  Mr.  Pugh's  stable." 

"Had  he  been  drinking?" 

Mary  Gary  got  up  from  the  arm  of  the  chair,  her 
face  incredulous.  "Drinking?  No,  he  hadn't  been 
drinking.  That  is,  I  don't  suppose  he  had.  How 
could  I  tell  ?  He  talked  a  lot  and  laughed  at  the  way 
Miss  Honoria  introduced  him  to  all  the  family  por 
traits,  and  the  superior  air  in  which  she  told  him  the 
history  of  each.  I  remember  he  called  her  Miss 
Icicle." 

"How  did  he  happen  to  go  there  with  you  ?" 

"We'd  been  to  drive.  He'd  never  seen  the  bluff 
and  was  interested  in  the  battle  fought  there.  I 
made  him  leave  me  at  Miss  Matoaca's,  but  he  in- 

20  295 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

sisted  on  coming  back  to  go  out  home  with  me.  I 
was  too  tired  to  argue."  She  brushed  her  hair  back 
as  if  tired  again.  "The  rain  kept  us,  and  it  was 
eight  before  we  got  off." 

"I  have  been  told  Miss  Honoria  was  not  the  only 
one  who  gave  information  that  afternoon.  When 
was  it  ?  Day  before  yesterday,  I  believe.  He  made 
statements  which  Miss  Honoria  seemed  to  find  more 
startling,  if  not  so  amusing,  as  those  he  made  to  her." 

"  Did  he  ?"  Mary  straightened  one  of  the  tall 
white  candles  in  the  candelabrum  of  many  priims  on 
the  end  of  the  mantelpiece  near  which  she  stood. 
Her  voice  was  not  interested.  "I  believe  he  did  tell 
me  Miss  Honoria  was  a  cut-glass  catechiser  and  very 
much  interested  in  me." 

"He  did  not  tell  you  his  answers  to  your  questions, 
I  suppose  ?" 

"He  certainly  didn't.  I  cared  for  neither  ques 
tions  nor  answers."  She  turned  and  looked  at  Miss 
Gibbie  and  laughed  indifferently.  "Mr.  Fielding 
seems  to  have  become  suddenly  important.  You 
sound  like  a  cross-examining  lawyer.  He  goes  to 
morrow,  and  I  never  expect  to  see  him  again.  Why 
this  interest  ?" 

Miss  Gibbie  looked  down  at  the  tip  of  her  slipper. 
Stooping,  she  straightened  its  bow.  "Because  of 
some  very  silly  things  I  heard  this  afternoon."  She 
put  the  other  foot  on  the  rung  of  the  chair  in  front  of 
her  and  carefully  smoothed  its  ribbon  with  fingers 


THE   PIECE   OF   PAPER 

that  twitched.  "Honoria  Brockenborough  claims  he 
told  her  the  money  you  have  been  spending  in  York- 
burg  came  from  him,  that  the  bonds  were  bought  by 
his  broker,  and  that  he  was  Yorkburg's  friend." 

Indifference  slipped  off  as  a  garment,  and,  at  Miss 
Gibbie's  words,  Mary  Gary  stiffened  in  rigid  horror 
and  unbelief.  For  a  moment  she  stared  at  her  as  if 
not  understanding,  and  her  hand  went  to  her  throat. 
She  choked  in  her  effort  to  speak,  and  her  eyes  flashed 
fire. 

"I  don't  believe  it!  The  moment  between  her 
hearing  and  speaking  was  tense.  "He  said — "  her 
breath  came  unevenly — "  he  said  he  was  Yorkburg's 
friend  ?  He  had  given  the  money  I  had  spent!  He — 
And  I — alone  in  the  world!" 

She  threw  out  her  hands  as  though  to  ward  off 
some  dreadful  thing,  then  dropped  in  the  big  wing 
chair  and  buried  her  face  in  her  arms. 

"Mary!  Mary!"  Miss  Gibbie,  terrified  by  the 
unexpected  effect  of  her  words,  leaned  over  the  twist 
ing  figure  and  put  her  hand  upon  it.  The  hand  was 
shaken  off.  For  the  first  time  in  her  life  Miss  Gibbie 
Gault  was  helpless  and  afraid. 

"Mary!" 

"Don't!  Don't  touch  me!  Don't  speak  to  me!" 
She  got  up  and  threw  back  her  head,  then  looked 
at  the  clock.  "What  time  is  it  ?"  She  walked  over 
to  the  bell  and  pressed  it.  "You've  often  said  deep 
down  in  every  woman  was  something  dangerous.  All 

297 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

of  us  have  something  we'd  die  for  quickly.  And  I — 
all  I  have — is  just  myself." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  Miss  Gibbie  sat 
down  limply  in  the  chair  from  which  Mary  had  just 
risen.  "Why  did  you  ring?  You  aren't  going  to 
take  seriously  the  thing  I  have  told  you  ?  The  man 
is  being  looked  after.  John  is  attending  to  him  to 
night." 

"John!" 

The  word  came  involuntarily,  and  her  head  was 
turned  quickly  lest  its  spasm  of  pain  be  seen.  "What 
has  John  to  do  with  it  ?" 

"A  very  good  deal."  Miss  Gibbie's  breath  was 
coming  back.  The  shock  and  fury  in  Mary's  face 
had  frightened  her  as  not  in  years  had  she  been  fright 
ened.  "John  has  heard  these  rumors  and  will  settle 
their  source.  What  do  you  want,  Celia  ?" 

"You  rang,  did  you  not?"  Celia,  hands  on  the 
curtains,  waited. 

"I  rang.  I  want  my  coat  and  hat."  Mary  Gary 
turned  to  her.  "I  want  you,  too,  for  a  little  while, 
Celia.  Get  ready,  please,  to  go  out  with  me."  She 
went  over  to  the  desk  and  took  from  one  of  its  many 
pigeon-holes  paper  and  pencil.  "  I  am  going  to  Miss 
Honoria  Brockenborough's." 

"What  are  you  going  there  for?"  Miss  Gibbie's 
voice  made  pretence  of  petulance.  "What  do  you 
want  to  see  her  for  ?" 

"  Didn't  you  tell  me  when  people  said  things  about 
298 


THE   PIECE   OF   PAPER 

you  that  were  not  true  you  made  them  sign  a  paper  to 
that  effect?  Were  Miss  Honoria  Brockenborough 
dying  she'd  have  to  sign  that  paper  to-night.  She 
has  lied,  or  the  man  of  whom  she  spoke  has  lied,  and 
either  the  one  or  the  other  or  both  shall  say  so.  Don't 
you  see" — for  the  first  time  her  voice  broke,  and 
again  she  put  her  hand  to  her  throat — "don't  you 
see  she  is  taking  from  me  all — everything  I  have. 
When  I  was  here,  a  child,  a  bit  of  sea-weed,  I  knew 
my  life  depended — on  just  myself.  All  the  eyes  of 
all  the  world  did  not  matter  so  much  as  my  own. 
You  do  not  know  what  it  means  to  be  alone  in  life!" 

She  stopped  as  if  something  had  suddenly  given 
way,  and  on  her  knees  her  face  was  hidden  in  Miss 
Gibbie's  lap. 

Only  the  crackling  of  the  coal  in  the  grate  broke  the 
stillness  of  the  room.  Presently  Miss  Gibbie  spoke, 
lifted  the  white,  drawn  face  to  hers. 

"  I  do  not  know  what  it  means  to  be  alone  in  life  ? 
It  is  about  all  of  life  I  do  know!"  Out  of  her  voice 
she  struggled  to  keep  bitterness,  made  effort  to  laugh. 
"And  do  you  suppose  I  would  let  Honoria  Brocken 
borough  scatter  her  righteous  assertions  a  minute 
longer  than  they  were  heard  ?  Puss  Jenkins  left  me 
at  four  o'clock.  An  hour  later  I  was  back  home." 
She  opened  her  beaded  bag.  "There  is  your  piece 
of  paper!"  She  shook  it  in  the  air.  "Honoria 
Brockenborough  is  now  in  bed  with  an  attack  of 
nervous  collapse.  I  hope  it  will  keep  her  there  some 

299 


MISS   G1BBIE   GAULT 

time.  Matoaca  hasn't  stopped  crying  since  the 
guild  meeting  this  morning,  and  for  the  first  time  in 
her  life  has  bitterly  reproached  her  Sister  Superior 
who  felt  it  her  Christian  duty  to  repeat  what  she  now 
says  she  understood  a  hope-inflated,  love-mad,  half- 
tight  fool  had  said.  Queer  old  place,  Mary,  this  big 
world!  Queer  little  place  this  old  Yorkburg!  Not 
one  person  in  forty  thousand  can  repeat  a  statement 
correctly,  and,  when  pinned  down,  what  was  said  and 
what  repeated  can  be  very  differently  constructed.  I 
thought  it  was  as  well  Honoria  Brockenborough 
should  have  a  few  remarks  made  to  her.  She's  had 
them.  The  doctor  is,  doubtless,  with  her  now.  Do 
you  want  this  paper  ?" 

Mary  Gary  took  the  paper  held  toward  her.  As 
she  read  it  the  color  came  back  slowly  in  her  face,  and 
the  short,  shivering  breath  grew  quiet  again. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "I  want  it."  With  a  sob  she 
leaned  toward  the  older  woman.  "I  told  you  I  was 
all — alone.  And  already  you — Miss  Gibbie!  Miss 
Gibbie!" 

In  each  other's  arms  they  clung  as  mother  and 
child. 


XXV 


THE    CONCLUSION    OF   A   MATTER 


OU  say,  then,  you  did  not  make  the  state 
ments  the  lady  credits  you  with  ?  You  will 
take  oath  to  that  ?" 

"Of  course  I  will."  Horatio  Fielding's 
shifty  brown  eyes  looked  for  a  moment  into 
John  Maxwell's  relentless  gray  ones,  then 
dropped  uneasily.  "What  in  the  devil  is  all  this 
about,  anyhow  ?  You  come  in  on  a  fellow  with 
some  damned  gossip  a  lot  of  old  cats  have  been 
telling  in  their  sewing  society  and  accuse  him  of  it 
before  he  knows  what  you're  talking  about.  I 
don't  even  know  what  you're  getting  at." 

"  I  am  getting  at  the  truth  or  falsehood  of  certain 
statements  attributed  to  you.  Cut  that  out — I  pre 
fer  to  talk  to  you  sober."  He  waved  his  hand  toward 
the  table  on  which  were  bottles  of  brandy  and  White 
Rock.  "You  know  what  these  statements  are.  To 
repeat  them  is  unnecessary.  The  lady  who  claims 
she  understood  you  to  make  them  has  repeated  them 
to,  among  others,  a  Mr.  Benjamin  Brickhouse.  Mr. 
Brickhouse  claims  he  approached  you  on  the  subject 

301 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

and  you  neither  affirmed  nor  denied  them.     You  are 
to  do  one  or  the  other,  and  do  it  now." 

Horatio  Fielding's  face  flushed.  "I  am — am  I? 
Who  says  so  ?" 

"I  say  so." 

John  Maxwell  came  closer.  He  looked  down  on 
the  short,  full  figure  with  the  round,  red  face,  and  the 
round,  red  face  grew  redder.  The  restraint  of  the 
larger  man,  his  height  and  breadth  and  radiation  of 
power  and  purpose  stung  him,  and  for  a  moment  he 
yielded  to  bravado.  A  look  in  the  face  above  his 
checked  him,  however,  and  he  changed  his  manner. 

"Oh,  I'm  perfectly  willing  to  deny  what  I  didn't 
do!"  He  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "To  hear  you  one 
would  think  I  wasn't  a  gentleman.  Of  course  I 
didn't  say  I'd  furnished  Mary  Gary  with  money — " 

"We  are  speaking  of  Miss  Gary." 

He  bowed  smilingly.  "Miss  Gary  with  money  to 
spend  on  people  here,  or  had  bought  bonds,  or  was 
Yorkburg's  unknown  friend.  I  said  I'd  be  glad  to 
do  it,  as  I  was  a  friend  of  Yorkburg's  and  would 
like  to  be  a  better  one." 

"Sit  down  at  that  table." 

"What  for?"  Horatio  Fielding's  shoulders  went 
back  and  the  dots  in  his  tan-colored  vest  showed 
plainly.  "I  prefer  to  stand." 

"I  prefer  you  to  sit.  There's  paper  and  pen  and 
ink  at  that  table.  Three  letters  at  my  dictation,  and 
if  you  hurry  you  can  catch  that  ten-ten  train." 

302 


THE   CONCLUSION   OF   A   MATTER 

"I'll  be  damned  if  I  doT 

"You'll  be  damned  if  you  don't.  To  make  you 
understand  what  you  have  done  is  impossible.  To 
make  you  make  what  amends  you  can,  isn't.  Sit 
down  and  write." 

Three  letters,  one  to  Mr.  Benjamin  Brickhouse, 
one  to  Miss  Honoria  Brockenborough,  one  to  Miss 
Gibbie  Gault,  were  written  sulkily  and  in  words  sup 
plied  by  John  Maxwell.  Signed  and  in  their  en 
velopes,  John  put  them  in  his  pocket,  then  again 
looked  at  his  watch.  "You  have  plenty  of  time," 
he  said,  "and  if  you  know  what's  good  for  you  you'll 
get  out  from  here  and  be  quick  at  it." 

"  Get  out  nothing !"  With  a  swift  movement  of  his 
hand  Horatio  Fielding  poured  out  a  full  measure  of 
brandy  and  drank  it.  "I'd  like  to  know  what  you've 
got  to  do  with  this  thing,  anyhow!  That's  the  worst 
of  a  little  hell  of  a  town  like  this.  Nothing  in  it  but  a 
lot  of  relics  and  old-maid  men  and  pussy-cat  women 
spying  on  a  girl  because  she's  young  and  pretty. 
That  cut-glass  icicle  with  an  antique  nose  asked  me 
so  many  questions  that  I  thought  I'd  let  her  know  all 
the  goods  wasn't  in  this  part  of  the  world.  She 
walked  me  around  the  room  three  times  showing  me 
a  bunch  of  old  duffers  in  wigs  and  knee-breeches,  and 
half-dressed  women  with  caps  or  curls.  Said  she 
didn't  suppose  we  had  family  portraits  in  Nevada. 
I  told  her  what  we  did  have.  If  she  chose  to  say  I 
said  what  she  says,  she  did  it  because  she  hates  people 

3°3 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

with  money  worse  than  snake  poison.  All  her  class 
is  muggy  on  money.  Thinks  it  common  to  have  it. 
But  they've  got  a  long  reach  all  right,  and  can  be  very 
smirky  to  the  face  when  they  smell  the  stuff.  As  for 
questions — '  John  being  near  the  window,  he  took 
hastily  another  drink  of  brandy.  "  She  asked  enough 
to  make  a  catechism.  I  didn't  mind  her  quizzers. 
She's  on  the  sour,  and  I  thought  I'd  help  her  enjoy 
herself.  I  told  her  I  didn't  mind  Mary  Gary's  having 
been  an  orphan.  I  was  willing  to  marry  her,  parents 
or  no  parents." 

"Willing!"  John  turned.  His  right  arm  went 
out,  and  from  Horatio  Fielding's  nose  blood  spurted 
over  the  spotted  vest,  down  the  legs  of  his  well- 
creased  trousers,  and  settled  on  his  patent-leather 
shoes.  Howling,  he  sprang  toward  the  larger  man. 
With  his  foot  John  kicked  him  in  the  air,  and  as  he 
came  down  on  the  floor  stood  over  him  as  he  would  a 
puppy. 

"I  can't  fight  you.  I'm  too  much  bigger,"  he  said, 
spitting  toward  the  fireplace.  "To  shake  a  rat  would 
be  as  easy.  But  I  don't  promise  to  keep  my  hands 
off  much  longer.  You're  a  liar!  If  you  didn't  say 
all  Miss  Brockenborough  says  you  said, you  implied  it. 
At  college  you  cheated,  and  you'd  smirch  a  good 
name  in  a  minute  if  your  own  interests  could  be 
helped.  I'd  rather  not  have  blood  on  my  hands,  and 
I  haven't  time  for  a  trial,  but  if  you  don't  get  out 
of  this  town  to-night  you'll  be  shipped  out  in  a 

304 


THE   CONCLUSION  OF   A   MATTER 

box  to-morrow.  You've  got  an  hour.  Are  you 
going?" 

Horatio  Fielding  got  up,  his  handkerchief  to  the 
bleeding  nose.  "If  it  takes  the  last  cent  I've  got  on 
earth  I'll  make  you  pay  for  this,"  he  said,  thickly. 
He  pulled  out  another  handkerchief  and  put  it  to  his 
cut  lip.  "I  believe  you've  broken  my  nose." 

"I  hope  I  have.  You're  lucky  it's  not  your  neck." 
John  took  a  card  out  of  his  pocket-book  and  handed 
it  to  the  shaking  figure.  "That's  my  address  in 
New  York.  If  you  want  to  see  me  again  you  can 
find  me  without  trouble.  Next  time  I'll  kill  you." 

But  Horatio  Fielding  was  out  of  the  room.  An 
hour  later  at  the  station  John  Maxwell  saw  him  step 
stiffly  into  the  sleeper  for  the  West,  and,  shrugging  his 
shoulders,  he  turned  away  and  went  rapidly  up  the 
street.  Walking  toward  Pelham  Place,  he  reached 
the  house  in  which  Miss  Gibbie  was  waiting,  but  he 
could  not  trust  himself  to  go  in.  At  the  door  he  left 
a  note,  then  walked  down  King  Street  and  into  the 
Calve rton  road. 

For  hours  he  walked.  The  moon,  clear  and  serene, 
hung  calmly  above  him,  and  in  the  sandy  road  shad 
ows  cast  by  the  stripped  branches  of  trees  and  shrubs 
swayed  and  danced,  beckoned  or  stood  still.  The 
air  was  cold  and  stinging,  and  the  silence,  soft  as  the 
pale  light  of  the  meaningless  moon,  was  unbroken 
save  by  the  whispering  of  the  wind.  Presently  at  the 
top  of  a  hill  he  sat  down  under  a  big  bare  tree  and 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

leaned  his  back  against  it.  Far  off  in  the  distance  the 
lights  of  Yorkburg  twinkled  like  fireflies  in  the  hazy 
darkness,  and  at  his  left  a  soft,  luminous  ball  was 
gathering  into  shape  and  brilliance.  With  a  roar  it 
rushed  through  the  outskirts  of  the  little  town  before 
its  long  black  tail  of  cars  could  be  defined,  and  as  its 
vibrations  reached  him  John  struck  a  match  and  took 
out  his  watch. 

"The  one-twelve,"  he  said,  "and  fifteen  minutes 
late."  A  cigar  was  lighted  slowly,  and  a  long,  deep 
whiff  taken.  Watching  its  spirals  of  smoke  curl  laz 
ily  upward,  his  eyes  narrowed  and  he  nodded  tow 
ard  them. 

"When  the  Lord  made  woman" — he  was  looking 
now  at  a  light  in  a  group  of  trees  not  very  far  away — 
"I  wonder  if  He  ever  realized  the  trouble  she  could 
give  a  man!" 


XXVI 


THE    SURRENDER 

AVE  the  light  from  the  shaded  lamp  on  the 
library-table  and  the  glow  of  the  dancing 
flames  on  the  hearth,  the  room  was  in 
shadow. 

Mary  Gary  had  drawn  the  curtains, 
straightened  chairs  and  books,  rearranged 
the  flowers,  refilled  the  inkstand  on  her  open  desk, 
brushed  the  bits  of  charred  wood  under  the  logs  on 
the  andirons,  turned  on  every  light,  and  then,  seeing 
nothing  else  to  do  that  would  permit  of  movement, 
had  taken  her  seat  near  the  table. 

John  Maxwell,  standing  by  the  mantelpiece, 
watched  her  with  eyes  half  amused,  half  impatient, 
but  with  no  comment,  and  for  some  minutes  neither 
had  spoken.  When  she  was  seated,  however,  a  mag 
azine  in  her  lap,  he  walked  around  the  room  and 
turned  off  all  lights  except  that  of  the  lamp;  then 
came  back  and  took  the  chair  opposite  hers. 

"This  is  such  an  interesting  number,"  she  said, 
opening  the  magazine  and  shuffling  its  pages  as  if 
they  were  cards.  "I  suppose  you  have  seen  it?" 

3°7 


"No.  I  haven't  seen  it."  He  leaned  forward,  his 
hands  clasped  between  his  knees,  his  eyes  holding  her 
steadily.  "  Don't  you  think,  Mary,  this  foolishness 
between  us  has  gone  on  long  enough  ?" 

"What  foolishness?"  She  put  the  magazine  on 
the  table  and  tapped  it  with  her  fingers,  looking  away 
from  him  and  into  the  leaping  flames.  "Has  there 
been  any  foolishness  between  us  ?  I  didn't  know  it." 

"What  would  you  call  it?" 

"  I  wouldn't — "  she  took  up  her  handkerchief  and 
examined  the  initial  on  it  with  critical  intentness — "I 
wouldn't  call  it  anything.  We  are  very  good  friends." 

"Are  we?" 

"I've  always  thought  so.  If  Fm  mistaken — " 
She  bit  her  lip  nervously.  "At  least  we  used  to  be. 
But  friendship  is  so  insecure.  That  of  years  is  killed 
in  a  moment  and — " 

"A  thousand  evidences  forgotten  if  there  be  one 
imaginary  failure,  one  seeming  neglect.  But  I'm  not 
speaking  of  friendship." 

A  step  behind  made  him  turn,  and  as  Hedwig  came 
in  he  got  up  and  took  the  telegram  she  handed  him 
with  only  half-concealed  irritation.  Mary  Cary,  too, 
stood  up,  and  as  Hedwig  left  the  room  the  bit  of 
yellow  paper  was  handed  her. 

"So  Mr.  Bartlett  is  coming  himself,"  she  said, 
reading  and  handing  the  paper  back.  "That  is 
much  the  best.  I  thought  he  was  too  busy.  Does 
Miss  Gibbie  know  ?" 

308 


THE   SURRENDER 

"Not  yet."  The  telegram  was  put  in  his  pocket. 
"Whether  she  wants  to  or  not,  Miss  Gibbie  will  have 
to  let  Yorkburg  know  who  its  friend  is«  I  don't 
doubt  she  meant  well.  To  do  things  as  nobody  else 
does  them  is  to  her  irresistible.  But  how  a  woman 
of  her  sense  and  understanding  of  human  nature 
could  fail  to  see  the  complications  of  a  situation  in 
which  secrecy  and  mystery  were  elemental  parts  is 
beyond  my  comprehension." 

"But  that's  because  you're  a  man."  She  nodded 
toward  him  with  something  of  the  old  bantering  air. 
She  and  I  were  just  women,  and  women  don't  see 
clearly — like  men.  After  mistakes  are  out  on  the 
table,  even  a  woman  can  see  them,  but  it  takes  a  man 
to  see  them  before  they  are  made.  Of  course,  it  was 
a  queer  way  of  doing  things,  but  it  was  her  way. 
Everybody  is  queer." 

"I  don't  deny  it." 

"And  if  she  didn't  want  her  left  hand  to  know  what 
the  right  was  doing,  why  tell  it  ?  Everybody  has  a 
pet  something  they  take  literally  in  the  Bible.  Miss 
Gibbie  likes  the  sixth  chapter  of  Matthew.  A  great 
many  people  seem  never  to  have  read  it." 

"And  a  great  many  people  who  try  to  practically 
apply  the  teachings  of  their  Master  are  called  cranks 
and  crazy.  Until  human  nature  is  born  again,  hu 
man  tongues  will  talk  and  human  noses  sniff  and 

O 

human  ears  listen  for  what  is  ugly  and  unkind.     The 

O  J 

partnership  into  which  you  and  Miss  Gibbie  entered 

309 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

was  all  right  in  purpose  and  intent,  but  you  forgot  in 
your  calculations  the  perversities  of  the  people  you 
were  trying  to  help.  People  will  pardon  anything 
sooner  than  a  secret." 

"I  suppose  I  will  have  to  tell  how  Tree  Hill  was 
given  me,  and  about  the  bonds  and  the  fifty  thousand 
dollars  and  the  baths  and  the  tired  and  sick  people 
sent  away,,  How  do  you  suppose  it  can  be  told — in 
the  way  she  will  mind  least,  I  mean  ?" 

John,  leaning  against  his  end  of  the  mantel,  looked 
at  the  girl  at  hers,  and  laughed  in  her  troubled  eyes. 

"The  decision  will  hardly  rest  with  us.  Mr. 
Bartlett  comes  to-morrow  to  meet  Mr.  Moon  and 
several  other  gentlemen  invited  for  the  purpose. 
The  money  deposited  with  his  company  to  be  used 
for  Yorkburg  in  coming  years  will  be  staggering  to 
Mr.  Walstein.  Miss  Gibbie  is  a  wizard  in  some 
things,  and  in  business  a  genius,  yet  of  this  little 
scheme  she  made  a  mess  and  put  you  in  a —  How  to 
let  Yorkburg  know  who  its  unknown  friend  is  will  be 
settled  by  Mrs.  McDougal,  I  imagine.  I  had  a  little 
talk  with  her  this  morning.  She  has  understood  all 
the  time  who  was  putting  up  the  money,  Hut  she  had 
sense  enough  to  keep  her  understanding  to  herself. 
I  told  her  she  could  let  it  out.  She  flew  home  for 
eggs,  and  there'll  be  few  of  her  customers  who  won't 
have  a  visit  from  her  to-day.  You  won't  have  to  tell 
the  name  of  Yorkburg's  friend." 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence.  Then  abruptly 
310 


THE   SURRENDER 

he  crossed  over  to  her,  took  her  hands  in  his,  and  held 
them  with  an  intensity  that  hurt. 

"Mary!  Mary!"  In  his  arms  he  gathered  her, 
crushed  her,  lifted  her  face  to  his  and  kissed  it,  kissed 
her  lips,  her  eyes,  her  hair.  "We  will  come  back  for 
Christmas,  but  we  are  to  be  married  at  once." 

She  struggled  to  draw  away,  but  his  strong  arms 
held  her  until  breath  came  unsteadily;  then,  as  again 
she  tried  to  free  herself,  he  held  her  off,  gripping  her 
hands. 

"  Is  there  nothing  to  tell  me,  Mary  ?" 

"To  tell  you  ?"  The  long  lashes  shielding  the 
awakened  eyes  quivered.  He  bent  closer  to  hear  her. 
"What  do  you  want  me  to  tell  you  ?" 

"That  you — love  me."  His  face  whitened.  " For 
my  much  love  is  there  not  even  a  little,  Mary  ?" 

She  shook  her  head,  her  eyes  still  upon  the  rug. 
Then  she  looked  up.  "I  never  love — a  little.  For 
your  much  love  I  have —  Oh,  John,  John,  don't 
leave  me  any  more!  Don't  leave  me  here  alone!" 

"  I  suppose  " — she  punched  the  cushion  on  the  sofa 
beside  her  into  first  one  shape  and  then  another — "  I 
suppose  there  must  always  be  something  we  wish 
there  wasn't.  I  don't  like  your  world.  I  don't  want 
to  marry  in  it.  It's  so  queer  how  things  get  mixed 
up  and  twisted  in  life.  I  believe  in  the  old-fashioned 
things,  and  do  not  want  that  which  the  men  and 
women  of  your  world  want.  What  would  mere  ex- 
21  311 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

ternals  mean  if  your  heart  was  not  happy,  or  if  one's 
life  was  spent  on  parade  with  no  one  to  care  for  you — 
just  for  yourself." 

"In  this  particular  case'* — he  smiled  in  the  brill 
iant,  anxious  eyes — "there  is  some  one  to  care  for  you 
— just  for  yourself." 

"I  know,  but — "  She  drew  away.  "I  can't  talk 
if —  You  really  mustn't,  John!  I  think  I'd  better 
sit  in  that  chair." 

"I  think  you  hadn't.     Go  on.     But  what?" 

"I  don't  like  your  kind  of  life.  I  mean  the  kind 
the  people  you  know  lead.  When  I  used  to  visit 
Geraldine  French  I  was  always  finding  points  of  like 
ness  in  it  to  my  early  training.  We  had  to  do  so 
many  things  we  didn't  want  to,  just  because  other 
people  did  them.  Everything  was  cut  according  to 
a  pattern.  I  don't  like  rules  and  regulations.  I  like 
Yorkburg.  Here  love  counts." 

"Love  counts  everywhere.  Unfortunately,  it's  the 
rules  and  regulations  that  don't  count  in  many  worlds. 
Custom  controls,  I  admit.  But  it's  because  love 
counts  I  need  you,  Mary.  All  of  us  get  tired  of  it,  the 
cap  and  bells,  the  sham  and  show,  and  underneath 
we  know  are  eternal  verities  we  pretend  to  forget. 
Eternal  verities  don't  let  you  forget.  Don't  you  see 
what  you  have  done  ?  You  have  made  me  under 
stand  what  life  could  mean.  In  what  you  call  my 
world  are  many  who  do  not  seem  to  know.  There  is 
something  very  terribly  needing  to  be  done  there." 

312 


THE   SURRENDER 

"What  is  there  needing  to  be  done  ?" 

"To  marry  for  love —  Oh,  I  don't  mean  there  is 
no  marrying  for  love."  He  laughed  in  the  shocked, 
wide-opened  eyes.  "I  mean  there  is  nothing  so  de 
ceptive  as  love's  counterfeit,  and  other  considerations 
masquerade  under  it  unguessed,  perhaps.  Many 
men  and  women  are,  doubtless,  honest  in  thinking 
when  they  marry  that  they  love  each  other,  but  if  they 
live  long  enough  a  large  proportion  find  out  their 
mistake." 

"Oh  no!  I  don't  believe  it!  I  know  too  many 
happy  marriages  to  believe  a  thing  like  that.  The 
trouble  is — " 

He  looked  in  the  protesting  eyes.  "The  trouble  is 
what?" 

"That  people  imagine  what  they  start  with  will 
last  through  life.  As  if  love  alone  stood  still,  did  not 
grow  more  or  become  less.  I  do  not  wonder  at  the 
unhappy  marriages.  I  wonder  there  are  not  more 
of  them." 

"  More  of  them  ?  Were  I  to  count  the  enviably 
happy  couples  I  know  there  would  barely  be  a  dozen." 

"A  dozen  ?"  She  turned  toward  him  in  pretended 
unbelief.  "In  your  world,  do  you  know  a  dozen  ?" 

"  In  your  world,  do  you  know  more  ?" 

"Many  more." 

"  Could  you  name  them  ?  Not  the  outwardly,  the 
seemingly  happy  ones,  but  those  who  are  happier 
with  each  other  under  any  circumstances  than  they 

313 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

would  be  apart  under  any  conditions.  Do  you  know 
many  married  people  who  come  under  this  head  ?" 

For  a  moment  she  did  not  answer,  then  turned  to 
him  questioning,  troubled  eyes.  "Why  do  you  ask 
such  things,  John  ?  Our  ideals  of  happiness  may  not 
be  those  of  others.  I  know  many  happily  married 
people.  I've  always  believed  in  love,  am  always  go 
ing  to  believe  in  it,  and  if  unhappiness  follows  many 
marriages  it  is  because  there  is  not  love  enough. 
Happiness  is  such  a  tender  thing!"  She  drew  her 
hands  away  and  clasped  them  tightly.  "One  should 
so  carefully  guard  it,  and  instead — " 

His  eyes  were  missing  no  throb  of  the  heart  that 
sent  recurring  waves  of  color  to  her  quivering  face. 
"Instead?" 

"  It  is  taken  as  a  right,  rather  than  an  award.  And 
then  there  is  weeping  or  storming  or  sneering  when 
it  is  lost." 

"Then  we  shall  take  it" — he  lifted  her  hand  to  his 
lips — "as  the  award  of  life,  and  guard  it.  It  needs 
guarding.  In  any  world  its  hold  is  insecure." 

Presently  she  again  looked  up  and  smoothed  her 
hair.  "  But,  John  " — she  shook  her  head  ^pubtfully 
— "I  shall  be  such  a  shock  to  your  friends.  I  want, 
don't  you  see,  to  be  free,  to  do  what  I  want  to  do,  not 
what  I  should  by  a  code  of  custom.  The  Martha  of 
me  would  break  forth  when  most  she  should  be  quiet, 
and  keep  you  always  uneasy.  I  never  know  what 
Martha  is  going  to  say  or  do." 


THE   SURRENDER 

"That's  why  I  love  Martha!  It's  so  wearing  to 
always  know  what  a  person  is  going  to  say  and  do. 
If  you  were  just  all  Mary—  He  laughed,  measur 
ing  her  hand  against  his  and  looking  carefully  at  its 
third  finger.  "You'll  be  a  joy,  my  Mary  Martha, 
and  the  more  shocks  you  give  the  better  for  us."  He 
took  out  a  note-book  and  opened  it.  "What  day 
is  this?  Saturday  —  let  me  see.  Thanksgiving  is 
on  the  twenty-sixth.  You  will  want  to  be  here,  I 
suppose  ?" 

"I  certainly  will!"     She  sat  suddenly  upright. 

"And  you  want  to  be  back  for  Christmas  ?" 

"I  certainly  do.  What  are  you  talking  about?" 
Her  face  crimsoned.  "You  don't  suppose  I'm  really 
going—' 

"I  don't  suppose  anything  about  it.  The  matter 
is  no  longer  in  your  hands.  Three  weeks  from  to-day 
will  be  the  second  of  December.  That  will  give  us 
time,  say,  for  a  bit  of  Bermuda  and  back  here  for  the 
holidays.  Mary  Gary" — he  took  her  hands  in  his 
— "three  weeks  from  to-day  you  are  to  marry  me." 

"But  Miss  Gibbie!  We  can't  leave  her  here  by 
herself.  Couldn't  she  go,  too  ?  She'd  love  Ber 
muda.  Don't  you  think,  John,  she  could  go, 
too  ?" 

"I  think  not!"  John's  nod  was  decisive.  "I  pre 
fer  taking  this  trip  with  just  my  wife." 

Mary  leaned  back  on  the  sofa  as  if  swept  by  a  sud 
den  realization.  "I  don't  know  what  we've  been 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

thinking  about.  To  go  away  and  leave  Miss  Gibbie 
like  this  would — " 

"Make  her  indeed  and  in  truth  the  friend  of  York- 
burg.  To  win  its  love  she  must  give  more  than 
money.  You  have  done  much  for  her,  opened  her 
eyes  to  much,  and  she  is  beginning  to  understand. 
She  has  had  a  hard  fight.  To  conquer  herself,  to 
give  you  up  has  meant — " 

"Oh,  John,  John!"  With  a  half-sob  her  hands 
went  out  to  him.  "  For  us  the  days  ahead  seem  glad 
and  beautiful.  For  her —  To  leave  her,  to  leave 
my  people,  my  little  orphans,  would  be  more  than 
selfish.  I  can't,  John,  I  can't!" 

He  bent  over  and  gathered  her  close  to  his  heart, 
laughed  unsteadily  in  the  face  he  lifted  to  his.  "You 
have  no  choice,  my  dear.  You  are  mine  now.  For 
ever  mine!" 


XXVII 


B 


A  TIE   THAT    BINDS 

EFORE  the  fire  in  Miss  Gibbie's  sitting- 
room  Mrs.  McDougal  held  up  her  left  foot 
to  the  crackling  coals  and  watched  the 
steam  curl  away  from  the  wet  sole  of  her 
shoe  with  beaming  satisfaction.  Her  skirt, 
wet  around  the  hem,  was  drawn  up  to  her 
knees,  her  coat,  well  sprinkled,  was  on  the  back  of  a 
chair,  and  in  her  lap  her  hat  lay  limp  and  spiritless. 
From  the  once  upright  tail  feathers  of  her  haugh 
tiest  rooster  which  adorned  one  side  of  the  hat,  the 
breast  of  a  duck  adorning  the  other,  tiny  globules  of 
water  trickled  slowly  into  the  brim;  and  as  she  held  it 
over  the  fender  the  feather  yielded  to  circumstance 
and  drooped  dejectedly. 

"Now,  ain't  that  just  like  folks!"  she  said,  holding 
it  off  and  looking  at  it  in  high  derision.  "Look  at 
that  thing,  Miss  Gibbie,  peart  as  the  first  crocus  and 
proud  as  cufFy  when  the  weather  was  good,  and  at  the 
first  touch  of  dampness  or  discouragement  flop  it 
goes,  and  no  more  spirit  than  a  convict  in  court!  It 
certainly  is  strange  how  many  things  in  nature  is  like 

317 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

human  beings.  Now  this  here  rooster  and  this  here 
duck" — she  smoothed  the  breast  and  ran  her  ringers 
down  the  feathers — "just  naturally  had  no  use  for  each 
other.  If  fowls  could  do  what  you  call  sniff,  they 
sniffed,  and  when  one  took  the  right-hand  side  of  the 
yard,  the  other  took  the  left.  And  yet  here  is  their 
remains,  side  by  side,  a  decoratin'  of  my  hat.  It  .ain't 
only  flowers  of  the  field  what  flourish  and  are  cut 
down,  it's  everything  what  stands  up,  specially  hopes 
and  desires,  and  things  like  that.  The  only  thing  in 
life  we  can  be  certain  sure  of  is  death,  ain't  it  ?  But 
I  never  did  feel  any  call  to  be  cockin'  my  eye  at  death 
just  because  I  knew  it  had  to  come.  When  it  do 
come  I  hope  there'll  be  grace  given  to  meet  it  hand 
some,  and  go  with  it  like  I'm  glad,  but  I  ain't 
a-goin'  to  be  sittin'  on  the  doorstep  lookin'  out  for  it. 
I'm  not  hankerin'  after  heaven  yet.  There's  a  long 
time  to  stay  there.  Funny  how  many  people  is 
willin'  to  be  separated  from  their  loved  ones,  and  how 
they  put  off  joinin'  of 'em  as  long  as  possible.  I  don't 
deny  I'm  fond  of  life.  I  just  love  to  live!" 

"Which  you  won't  do  long  if  you  go  out  in  weather 
like  this.  I've  never  seen  such  a  storm  in  November. 
Are  you  sure  your  stockings  aren't  wet  ?" 

Miss  Gibbie,  in  her  big  chair  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  fireplace,  looked  at  Mrs.  McDougal  half 
irritably,  half  perplexedly.  To  walk  from  Milltown 
to  Pelham  Place  in  a  heavy  snow  with  no  over 
shoes  and  no  umbrella  was  just  like  her.  She 


A   TIE   THAT    BINDS 

shouldn't  have  come,  and  yet  Miss  Gibbie  was  not 
sorry  she  had  come.  There  were  times  when  Mrs. 
McDougal's  chatter  was  unendurable,  but  others 
when  her  philosophy  of  life  had  a  common-sense 
value  that  systems  of  belief  and  articles  of  faith  failed 
to  supply.  To-day  was  one  of  the  latter  times.  She 
was  rather  glad  to  see  her.  Leaning  forward,  she  re 
peated  the  question:  "Are  you  sure  your  stockings 
are  not  wet  ?" 

"Sure  as  I'm  a  sinner."  Mrs.  McDougal  held  up 
first  one  shoe  and  then  the  other.  "Just  the  soles 
were  wet,  and  their  sizzlin'  don't  mean  anything. 
They're  an  inch  thick,  them  soles  are.  Them's 
McDougal's  shoes."  She  held  her  feet  out  proudly. 
"  I  always  did  say,  Miss  Gibbie,  if  you  couldn't  have 
what  you  wanted  in  life,  for  the  love  of  the  Lord  don't 
whine  about  it,  but  work  it  off  and  get  a  smile  on! 
I'd  a  heap  rather  have  a  telephone  in  my  house  and 
just  step  up  to  it  and  call  for  one  of  them  takin  cabbys, 
like  we  saw  at  Atlantic  City,  and  come  a-scootin' 
and  a-honkin'  up  to  your  door  and  step  out  superior 
and  send  up  a  card  with  Mrs.  Joel  B.  McDougal  on 
it  than  to  put  on  two  pairs  of  McDougal's  socks 
first,  and  then  pull  away  at  his  shoes  and  wrap  my 
legs  in  newspapers  to  keep  my  skirts  from  slushin'  of 
'em.  I'd  a  heap  rather  done  that.  But  a  lot  of  life 
ain't  what  we'd  rather.  It's  what  is.  And  my 
grandmother  always  told  me  there  warn't  nothin'  in 
life  what  showed  the  stock  you  come  from  as  the  way 

3*9 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

you  took  what  come  to  you.  I  never  did  have  no  use 
for  a  whimperer.  Of  course,  Fm  plain»  Born  Duke 
and  married  McDougal,  but  whenever  I  get  in  a  fog 
and  can't  see  clear,  and  so  tired  out  I  can't  eat,  and 
plum  run  down,  I  say  to  myself,  'Your  folks  ain't 
ever  flunked  yet,  and  you  keep  your  head  where  the 
Lord  put  it.'  He  put  it  up.  Folks  see  me  laugh  a 
lot.  I  do.  I  couldn't  learn  to  play  on  the  pianer, 
though  I'm  clean  crazy  about  music.  I  couldn't 
learn  none  of  the  things  I  yearned  for  inside,  so  I  said 
to  myself,  'You  learn  to  laugh,  laugh  hearty.'  And 
somehow  it's  helped  a  lot,  laughin'  has.  There's 
many  a  time  I  done  it  to  keep  tears  back.  Ain't  no 
body  but  has  tears  to  shed  some  time  or  other.  But 
'tain't  no  use  in  keepin'  a  tank  of  'em  to  be  tapped 
at  every  slip  up.  When  I  get  so  I  can't  keep  mine 
back  any  longer  I  goes  to  the  woodhouse  and  locks  the 
door  and  has  it  out.  But  that's  just  when  Fm  tired 
and  there  don't  seem  nothin'  ahead.  I  tell  the  Lord 
about  it.  Tell  Him  there  ain't  nothin'  human  can 
help.  Just  Him.  And  if  He  don't,  Fm  done  for. 
Ain't  ever  been  a  time  yet  that  when  I  come  right 
down  to  it  and  says,  '  Lord,  I  need  You,\that  the 
help  ain't  handed  out.  I  mean  help  to  take  hold 
again  and  keep  on  laughing.  I  don't  ask  for  auto 
mobiles  and  a  brick  house  and  fur  coats  and  plum- 
puddin's.  Never  did  think  the  Lord  was  in  that 
kind  of  supply  business.  But  when  I  says,  *  You  and 
Me  got  to  fight  this  thing  out,'  He  ain't  ever  gone 

320 


A   TIE   THAT    BINDS 

back  on  me  yet.  Yes'm,  these  here  is  McDougaFs 
shoes.  I  was  thankful  enough  they  was  in  the  house 
to  put  on.  I  always  was  lucky,  though.  But  just 
listen  at  me  a-runnin'  on  worse'n  Mis'  Buzzie  Tate. 
And  I  ain't  even  answered  your  question  as  to  what 
I  come  for.  Maybe  it's  because  I'm  not  sure  how 
you'll  take  it." 

Miss  Gibbie  leaned  over  and  with  the  poker  broke 
a  large  lump  of  coal,  making  it  blaze  and  roar  in 
licking,  outleaping  flames.  "What  is  it?  I'm  not 
dangerous,  I  hope." 

"No'm,  you're  not  dangerous."  Mrs.  McDougal 
straightened  her  now  dry  skirt.  "But  you  might 
think  I  was  audacious,  which  is  what  I  am,  I  reckon. 
I  don't  mean  nothin'  like  that,  and  I  ain't  got  no 
more  use  for  familiarity  than  you  have,  but  my 
grandmother  always  told  me  if  you  heard  anything 
kind  about  a  person  '  twas  your  business  to  pass  it  on 
same  as  unkind  things  is  passed.  And  I  just  want 
to  tell  you  that  the  day  I  was  takin'  them  eggs  around, 
the  day  Mr.  John  told  me  in  words  what  I'd  long 
known  without  'em,  as  to  who  Yorkburg's  friend 
was,  I  heard  so  many  downright  gratitudes  and  ap 
preciations  along  with  the  surprise  and  the  raisin'  up 
of  hands  and  eyes  that  I  wonder  your  ears  didn't  burn 
plum  ofF.  I  ain't  sayin'  'twas  fulsome  praise  they 
chucked  at  you.  It  warn't.  You  ain't  the  kind 
what  folks  is  free  with.  You  can't  help  it,  never 
havin'  been  thrown  much  with  back-yards  and  ac- 

321 


MISS   GIBBIE   GAULT 

quainted  chiefly  with  the  parlor.  But  all  that's 
wanted  is  the  chance  to  love  you.  They  know  you're 
their  friend.  You've  proved  it  by  acts,  instead  of 
words,  the  usual  way,  and  if'n  you  could  see  fit  to 
sometimes  pay  a  visit  when  Miss  Mary  goes  away — : 

She  stopped.  Miss  Gibbie  pushed  her  chair  back 
farther  in  the  shadow,  and  with  her  hand  shaded  her 
face.  For  a  long  moment  there  was  silence,  then 
Mrs.  McDougal  examined  carefully  the  soles  of  her 
shoes,  after  which  she  took  up  her  hat  and  smoothed 
the  breast  of  the  once  sniffy  duck. 

"I  ain't  a-goin'  to  say  anythin'  about  Miss  Mary's 
leavin*  Yorkburg,"  she  said,  presently,  "except  this — 
I  had  to  go  to  the  woodhouse  about  it  and  get  plum 
down  on  my  knees  and  own  up  I  was  cussin*  mean 
and  selfish  not  to  be  smilin*  glad  she  and  Mr.  John 
were  goin'  to  get  married.  They're  young,  Miss 
Gibbie,  and  it's  nature  for  young  folks  to  love  each 
other  and  go  hand  in  hand  through  life.  Me  and  you 
both  is  thankful  his  hand  is  for  her  and  hers  is  for 
him.  But  your  heart  can  be  thankful  and  ache,  too. 
If  you'll  be  excusin*  of  my  seemin*  free,  I  just  wanted 
to  tell  you  yours  ain't  the  only  one  what's  had  a  great 
big,  heavy,  lovin'  somethin'  on  it  right  here" — she 
put  her  closed  hand  on  her  breast — "ever  since  we 
heard  the  news.  And  it's  because  of  that  lump  we 
ain't  ever  goin'  to  let  her  know  we're  anything  but 
joyful.  We  want  that  weddin'  to  be  a  regular  bunch 
of  bells.  Christmas  and  Easter  and  marriage  all  in 

322 


A   TIE   THAT   BINDS 

one.  She  do  look  sometimes  as  if  it  will  break  her 
heart  to  go  away  and  leave  all  she  loves  so  here,  and 
particular  you.  She  don't  let  me  speak  of  it,  but  I 
told  her  it  was  the  lot  of  woman  to  follow  on,  and,  of 
course,  if  she'd  let  herself  be  beguiled  into  lovin'  a 
man  she'd  have  to  yield  up  a  heap  for  the  pleasure  of 
his  company.  Never  did  seem  to  me  matrimony  did 
much  for  women,  anyhow.  They  have  to  give  up 
their  name  and  their  home  and  their  friends  and  their 
kinfolks  and  their  wages,  if  they  work  for  a  livin', 
and  take  what's  given  'em  for  the  rest  of  their  natural 
lives.  No'm.  I  ain't  never  seen  where  marriage 
did  much  for  women.  I  certainly  would  like  to  have 
had  a  beau,  though.  I  never  had  a  beau.  I  warn't 
but  seventeen  when  McDougal  asked  me  to  marry 
him,  and,  not  havin'  a  bit  of  sense,  I  said  yes.  That's 
all  the  courtin'  there  was.  If  ever  I'm  a  widow  I  bet 
I  have  a  beau.  A  woman  does  like  to  have  some 
words  said  to  her  every  now  and  then,  even  if  she 
knows  they  ain't  so." 

She  got  up  and,  before  the  mirror  over  the  mantel, 
pinned  on  her  hat,  getting  it,  as  usual,  on  the  side. 
Taking  up  her  coat,  she  felt  it  to  see  that  it  was  dry, 
and  again  nodded  at  the  lady  in  the  chair. 

"I  tell  you  customs  is  curious,  Miss  Gibbie,  and, 
bein'  man-made  mostly,  ain't  altogether  in  favor  of 
females.  But  neither  is  life.  Life  has  got  a  lot  in 
it  what  ain't  apple-blossoms  and  cherry-pie.  You 
think  you've  got  things  like  you  want  'em;  you  peg 

323 


MISS   G1BB1E   GAULT 

away  for  this  and  you  beat  around  for  that,  and,  just  as 
you're  gettin'  ready  to  set  down  and  enjoy  yourself, 
up  comes  somethin'  you  warn't  a  lookin*  for  and 
knocks  the  stuffin'  clean  out  of  you.  I  found  out  a 
long  time  ago  'twas  all  foolishness,  this  waitin'  to 
enjoy  yourself,  and  I  says  to  myself,  says  I,  'Look 
here,  Bettie  Francis  Duke  McDougal,  if  there's  any 
little  forget-me-nots  along  the  road,  you  just  pick 
'em  up  and  make  a  posy.  Don't  be  waitin'  for 
American  Beauties  to  pull.'  I  never  cared  much  for 
American  Beauties,  anyhow.  I  ain't  ever  had  one, 
but  a  whole  lot  of  things  don't  give  pleasure  after 
they're  got.  Well,  good-bye,  Miss  Gibbie.  I  cer 
tainly  have  enjoyed  seein'  of  you.  I  told  somebody 
the  other  day  that  for  sense  and  wisdom  and  the 
learnin'  in  books  there  warn't  your  match  on  earth. 
Just  to  hear  you  talk  is  an  edjication,  and  I  sure  do 
enjoy  myself  whenever  I  see  you.  I  hope  you  don't 
mind  my  comin*  to-day  ?" 

Miss  Gibbie,  who  had  risen,  held  out  her  hand. 
"No,"  she  said.  "I  am  glad  you  came.  I  may  have 
to  send  for  you  pretty  often  this  winter.  You  can 
help  me — you  and  Peggy.  Tell  Peggy  jhe  must 
come  and  see  me." 

For  an  hour,  two  hours,  Miss  Gibbie  sat  before  her 
fire,  hands  in  her  lap,  eyes  unseeing,  bent  upon  the 
curling,  darting  flames.  One  by  one  days  of  the 
past  year  came  before  her,  stopped  or  passed  on  ac- 

324 


A  TIE   THAT   BINDS 

cording  to  their  memories.  The  long  talks  with 
Mary  of  late  repeated  themselves,  and  she  felt  again 
the  warm,  young  arms  about  her  as  she  was  told  that 
which  she  knew  so  well.  John's  hands,  too,  seemed 
again  to  hold  hers  as  he  asked  for  the  promised  bless 
ing,  and  when  he  bent  and  kissed  her  she  had  laughed 
lightly  lest  her  heart  give  sign  of  its  twisting,  shivering 
hurt. 

Suddenly  her  face  fell  forward  in  her  hands.  "So 
many  lonely  people  in  the  world,"  she  said,  under  her 
breath,  "so  many  people  in  Lonely  Land!  Nobody 
to  wait  for  when  the  day  is  done.  Nobody  to  go  to 
when  darkness  falls!" 

After  a  while  she  got  up  and  walked  over  to  the 
window  and  stood  beside  it.  The  early  twilight  had 
become  night,  but  the  first  snow  of  the  season  showed 
clearly  in  the  unbroken  whiteness  of  lawn  and  long, 
straight  street  and  roofs  of  seeming  marble.  The 
burdened  branches  of  crystal-coated  trees  swayed 
in  the  wind,  and  here  and  there,  in  the  light  cast 
from  tall  poles  at  long  intervals  apart,  they  gleamed 
in  dazzling  brilliance  and  flashing  sheen.  Past 
streets  and  houses  on  to  open  fields,  her  eyes,  through 
the  whirling,  fast-falling  snow,  followed  the  Calverton 
road  which  led  to  Tree  Hill,  and  in  the  darkness  she 
saw  the  lights  in  the  house  twinkle  faintly  in  the 
flake-filled  air. 

Drawing  the  curtains  rarther  aside,  she  stood  close 
to  the  window  and  pressed  her  face  upon  it.  Behind 

325 


MISS    GIBBIE   GAULT 

the  house  and  below  the  apple  orchard  at  a  snow- 
covered  mound  she  was  now  in  spirit,  and  under  her 
breath  she  made  effort  to  speak  bravely. 

"A  lonely  old  woman,  Colleen.  A  lonely  old 
woman,  but  the  old  must  not  get  in  the  way  of  the 
young.  Your  eyes  have  been  upon  me.  You've 
made  me  remember  youth  comes  but  once,  and  life — 
is  love." 

The  opening  of  the  door  made  her  turn  quickly. 
Snow-covered,  faces  flushed  with  the  sting  of  biting 
wind,  vivid  and  full  of  glow,  they  stood  before  her — 
Mary  and  John. 

"I  had  to  see  you."  Unfastening  the  fur  coat, 
Mary  handed  it  to  John,  then  threw  her  arms  around 
Miss  Gibbie.  "Are  you  sure  you  are  perfectly  well  ? 
This  morning  you  seemed  to  have  a  little  cold,  and  I 
couldn't—" 

—Rest  until  she  saw  for  herself  how  you  were  to 
night."  John  put  the  coat  on  the  chair.  "I  told 
her  I'd  come  and  see  you,  but  that  wouldn't  do." 

"Of  course  it  wouldn't  !"  Again  the  face  held 
between  her  hands  was  searched  anxiously,  and  her 
eyes  lighted  with  glad  relief.  "I  was  s»  worried. 
I'm  never  going  to  let  anybody  see  for  me  how  you 
are.  I'm  going  to  always  see  for  myself!" 


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